Catlock
by StArBarD
Summary: Meet Watsoncat, a fluffy, lovable former stray who has a knack for typing. What better for a feline-writer to type about than the adventures of his cat-mate Sher-cat? All the characters of Sherlock, as cats.
1. Hound of the Baskervilles Part 1

**Watsoncat Belongs to theCaptainsideways, always has, always will. You can visit Watsoncat on tumbler, or on deviantart. **

* * *

Hello, my name is Watson-cat. It's short for "Watson, your stupid cat..." But as you can imagine I'm not so fond of my full name.

I have another name too, but no one uses it, which is a shame. It's a fine sounding name.

I live in a small house. I used to live in a large house, but I like the small house better. The small house is filled with things I like. Things that ring and things that are soft, I have such fun!

In a small house I can jump up and reach everything, so I'm fine with that. I climb on places I'm not supposed to everyday.

The house is small and filled with junk, but it is cozy and it feels like a nice home, and something interesting is always happening.

I also live with two humans. They're both a little odd. One is a bit eccentric and he can stay up all night long and sometimes he doesn't eat. He also plays an instrument that sounds like a cat-song. I sometimes join him and yowl while he plays, but he never likes to sing duets with me. He hits me with the stick. I think he called it a bow. Weird.

The other one is comparably boring. He eats normally, goes to sleep when tired, leaves every day, then comes back and feeds me. I kind of like the reliability. I have a feeling that if I relied on the weird one for food I'd be a much skinnier cat.

The boring one is odd in his own special little ways. I'm not going into much detail here. This is just for fun and for now. Maybe later I'll make it longer, if I can ever get a spare moment on the computer again.

Typing is hard for a cat. Keyboards are made for fingers. I'm just glad there are Shift keys on both sides; otherwise I'd have atrocious grammar. Spell check just told me I spelled 'atrocious' wrong and corrected it. It's a great time to be a cat-writer. I can't imagine how cats wrote before computers. It must have been hard and sloppy.

I also live with another cat. He's a weird cat, but also a good friend. He has a beautiful-sounding name, but I mostly just call him 'Sher'. That's because all I say to him is "sure…sure. Sure." Half the time I'm not even listening. I hope he never finds out.

The humans occasionally get a great burst of energy and run out of the house. When that happens they don't come back for a long time, sometimes days. Or one will come back and the other is gone, or they will both come back tired, but in good spirits, chatting excitedly about things I don't understand.

It's okay if they're gone, because I know how to open doors. Sher doesn't know how I do it, but I can open the door to the apartment and the fridge. I'm not going to tell him; because if I did I have the feeling I'd never see him again. For the moment we're partners and housemates.

Sher-cat is mysterious. He seems to have a lot of friends outside the house and it bugs him that the humans won't let them in, and won't let him out.

"How in the world am I supposed to conduct business when I'm locked up like some common hamster? It's infuriating!" He is currently fuming at the back of my head while typing.

I think I'm going to answer him.

No, I'm going to let him blow off some steam for a while. In the meantime I'm going to stop typing and get a snack. Something smells like meat in the refrigerator.

* * *

I'm back but I think it's conditionally. Sher-cat has asked me to open the door for him and I said no. I don't want to get in trouble with our humans and I don't want to be responsible if he gets hurt. He's glaring at me from the corner of the room, but I'm almost certain he'll get over jijidshu00000000awdcz c

* * *

If my humans ever read this I'm sorry. Sher-cat jumped me and made me open the door. I can't help but worry while he's out there. There are cars and busses and bikes and dogs and people and all sorts of things that no cat should face alone.

I know; after I lived in the big house they threw me out to live on the streets. It was war every day and I'm still a little traumatized. The nice (but boring) human brought me here, and for that I'm grateful, but I can't let Sher-cat face the dangers alone. I'm leaving this up on the computer so that if we die, there is some token of what has become of us.

* * *

We're back! I can't believe we made it back before the humans. So much happened, I can't wait to tell you!

I pulled open the door and Sher-cat was standing in the hallway. There are actually two doors to leave the small house (which I discovered was called a flat, which is odd. It is in no way flat.) and Sher-cat had become trapped since he was unable to open either one to get back or move forward.

I reluctantly opened the door to the outside. I wanted to go back to the apartment, and probably could have since I was the only one who knew how to open doors but Sher-cat sat on me until I conceded.

Conceded? Is that the right word? Forgive me, I know more words than most cats, but I still get them mixed up sometimes.

Anyway, I gave up and opened the door to the outside and was immediately blinded by a flashing ray of light that I later found to be the summer sun. A gust of hot air like dog's breath nearly knocked me over but Sher-cat was unaffected and stepped right outside, into the roar of a busy, uncaring world.

"Thanks for that. You can go back now." He told me as he leapt down a few steps onto the bright side walk. I watched him amble away into the city as some deafening horn blared away from somewhere close.

I couldn't just leave him. I'd only known him for a short time, but we had shared experiences and that made him my friend. He's a good cat. Weird, no doubt but a good cat.

I shut the door to the flat and ran down the street to catch up with him. He was walking pretty slowly, and I caught him with ease. I thought he'd be happy that I came, but he was really upset.

"Glad to see you came, now go home." He hissed at me, his ears betraying his anger more than his expression ever would.

"I came to help you." I said. "Or to convince you to come back with me."

"I'll return when I feel like it." He said urbanely. "I'm about to embark on an arduous case that I would prefer to do alone. I'm not responsible for dirtying your fluffy tail, so why don't you just go home and take an eighteen hour nap or something?"

I was hurt by his anger and his rudeness, but I had already made the decision to follow him and help him, no matter what he said or did.

"I might have gone home if you asked nicely." I told him. "But now I don't think I will; I'm stuck on you now."

"Listen, this isn't some game. If you're going to follow me you need to do exactly as I ask and don't ask questions." He growled.

"Isn't that what we already do at home?"

"This isn't a joke."

"Fine then. Lead the way if you know where you're going." I said.

Sher-cat seemed to know his way around the streets well enough, but he was still a bit green when it came to basic feral survival. I had spent many months as a stray and I instructed him on how to walk up the streets by clinging to buildings, and rolling behind garbage bins when humans or bikes came your way and leaping onto higher surfaces occasionally to disperse your scent.

"I knew you spent some time as a stray, but I had no idea you were so well versed on stray-cat strategy, your aloof demeanor does you no justice."

I was uncertain as to whether he was paying me a compliment, or insulting me in disguise.

"How did you know I was a stray? I asked him as we turned another corner. "No one ever told you, I think."

"Simplicity itself, you become agitated whenever humans leave for extended period of time, which speaks of abandonment issues. I can tell you're agitated because you obsessively clean yourself, which in cats is a clear sign of stress. You have shown excellent aptitude for finding food and for eating the most…um, novel of things which shows you are not at all picky, as is to be expected of cats that have grown up on a steady staple diet of cat-food. And finally, you act as though each human that enters the flat other than the three you know is an invader, and you hide in a place where you can observe them and not be bothered by them which bespeaks of a hunting instinct. So ask yourself where does a cat learn abandonment, to scavenge for food and hunt, and to be weary of humans? The obvious answer is that the cat was a stray."

"That's amazing!" I told him in awe "You're a psychic!"

He spent the rest of the journey angrily explaining how he was not a psychic, detailing the exact steps of his deduction, and generally chewing me out for believing in psychics in the first place. I learned that I had made a mistake I was never ever going to repeat.

When we arrived at the destination Sher-cat was looking for he suddenly sat down and waited. Confused and a bit apprehensive I sat down and waited with him. Sometimes he would stare absently at the sky, while other times he would glance around as though seeing something of interest. I couldn't see anything and I wondered if he wasn't a little bit crazy.

Suddenly a large, grizzled gray cat stepped in front of us. He had a square head and a few other kitties in tow. I became a little bit scared as I realized we were probably on his territory and he might want to fight.

"So, you got my message." He addressed Sherlock.

"Yeah, but I couldn't catch all of it. My human started to play his violin."

"At one in the morning?" the gray cat looked at us in disbelief.

"He is a strange human."

"Somehow you two suit each other." He said flashing a brief, toothy grin.

Suddenly he turned to me and his expression hardened. "Who's the fur ball?"

"My partner." Sher-cat said plainly. The gray cat looked surprised, but didn't ask any more questions.

"Where's the body?" Sher-cat asked looking around, as though it could be nearby.

Body?! I almost shouted out loud in disbelief, but realizing that Sher-cat wanted me to act professional I stifled my remarks. But still, I didn't sign on for any bodies!

"The road-kill truck came and picked him up a half hour ago. We couldn't stop him."

"Drat." He said. "No body, no evidence, what kind of case do we have here?"

"Are you guys the police?" I asked, instantly regretting my utterance.

The gray cat's long fur bristled with aggression and Sher-cat stepped in front of me, shielding me should the older cat lose his nerve and attack.

"Honestly, how fresh-faced is he? He doesn't know who we are!" he roared.

"He learns quickly." Sher-cat said. "Can you show me the scene of the crime PLEASE so we can begin? "

Lestrade (he said that was his name, but I'm not sure. It doesn't sound very much like a cat-name to me) lead us to one particular alley where there was a maroon smudge on the ground. If I had anything in my stomach, I might have thrown up right there. Evidently it was an imprint of a cat that had died a horrible, bloody and violent death.

"Evidently this is the imprint of a cat that died a violent and bloody death." Said the short-haired brown cat.

"Danderson, walk down to the end of the street and count how many blue cars drive by over the course of ten minutes." Sher-cat said, evidently annoyed. For once I was glad I had kept my thoughts to myself.

Danderson looked to Lestrade for guidance and Lestrade motioned for him to go. He glumly counted cars for several minutes while we investigated, I watched him over my shoulder.

Sher-cat was pressed against the ground, looking closely at the smears of dried blood, his nose right up against the pavement.

"A dog did this." He said finally.

"How do you know?" I asked. It seemed to be just the question he was hoping for.

"The blood is thicker in a pattern, though it smoothed out as the cat bleed out. The pattern is that of an arched semi-oval; obviously a dog and a big one at that."

"Actually, I know." Lestrade said. "This is the fourth cat to die from a dog attack this week. The dog will bite, then let go and leave the cat to bleed out without eating it. I've never seen anything like it."

"Are you certain it's the same dog?" I asked.

"It's a big dog that kills cats by biting them and letting them go, how many could there be in the city?"

"Too many for you to know, too many to know." Sher-cat said ominously.

"What should we do?" I asked.

Lestrade contemplatively began grooming his paw. "What we need to do is set up a trap for it. We'll leave a cat out and set up a big net and…"

Lestrade cat had to stop because Sher-cat broke into a fit of hysterical laughter.

"What is so funny wise-guy?" Lestrade said defensively.

"How do you plan to kill this monster-dog?" Sher-cat asked. "If my measurements are anything to go by, you might as well try to net that building."

"How big is it?"

"Let me make this simple. The four of us standing on each other's backs wouldn't reach his mouth." He said with a terrible grin.

"That big huh."

The best thing to do is to find where it came from and make sure it never comes back. You can handle that…right?" Sher-cat said suddenly appearing bored.

"You're not going to help?" Lestrade said incredulously "Lives are at stake."

"But it's such an easy problem with an easy solution. It's boring. You can more than handle this."

"I wouldn't come to you at all if I could handle this! Give me a hint!" He demanded.

"It is simplicity itself. Look at a map and plot the areas of the attack, then search in those areas for homes with new dogs. Find the dog which matches the description and you'll have your killer."

"How do you know it's a new dog?" I asked beginning to feel a little bit thick headed.

"These attacks are clearly the work of a disturbed mind, it isn't too far to assume that these aren't the first attacks he's done on cats and if we don't stop him from escaping they won't be the last. He must be a new dog, since the attacks just started this week."

"Sounds reasonable." Lestrade said. "Let's go back to headquarters and see if we can find the area you mentioned."

"I need to get home. My friend here is worried for our health." He tapped me with his sharp paw. "He's terrified of being outdoors."

"I think we should help Sher." I said ignorantly. He shot me an angry glance, but Lestrade seemed happy.

"That settles it then. Let's go."

"No, I don't want to. I'm going home." Sher-cat said, becoming increasingly impatient.

"Don't be such a brat!" Lestrade cat snapped. "You can be so selfish!"

"You know me. I'll always help with an INTERESTING case, and this is NOT interesting." He pouted.

"I'm interested." I said meekly. I really wanted to find out what would happen to the dog and if the streets were safe for strays again. Now that I was so invested in the mystery I really wanted to know how it ended.

"Shut up." He told me curtly.

"I'll make it worth your while." Lestrade said enticingly.

Sher-cat frowned. "How?"

"You know how."

"You have some?"

"I have plenty."

"It's mine if I help you?"

"Only if you help."

Sher-cat bit his lip and bowed his head. It seemed as though he'd given in to Lestrade for the time being.


	2. Hound of the Baskervilles Part 2

**Same rules apply, Watsoncat and company belong to the esteemed TheCaptainSideways. You can visit Watson cat on tumbler **

* * *

Lestrade led us to an old abandoned house that leaned over the street precariously. It had slim basement windows that were shattered and he slipped through these into the house.

The inside was much bigger than it appeared. We found ourselves in a huge, open dark space with boxes and crates everywhere lit by a few blue lights which dangled over head like glowing balls of string. All through the room cats of every kind were moving, meowing, working, talking and laughing. I was amazed at how many cats there were!

"Welcome newbie, to the official base of the unofficial Yard." Danderson said to me grinning.

"Danderson, don't talk to him, you're stupidity might be contagious." Sher-cat snapped. A ripple of rage crossed Danderson's features, but he suppressed it by quickly beginning to groom himself.

"I have a map on the back table." Lestrade said walking with an air of importance through the basement.

The next thing I knew we were all gathered around the map and Lestrade was marking the murders with a flick of his claw.

"They all centralize around the same area." Sher-cat said once Lestrade had finished. He leaned over and circled the area with his paw. "If you look for dogs in that area, you'll have you're killer. That was almost too simple. Actually I take it back. That WAS too simple. Give me the stuff."

"No way, not yet. You have to earn it." Lestrade said smugly.

Sher-cat lifted his arms in frustration. "What do you want me to do? Catch the beast myself?" then suddenly he raced off towards the broken window. I ran behind him, calling for him to wait but he was muttering to himself and didn't hear me.

I followed behind him and watched in horror as he darted out in front of traffic and in front of people but he didn't stop or falter, nor did he ever run out of my sight.

I on the other hand was a mess. Everything was loud and strange and foreign and trying to kill me. I darted and weaved in between legs and wheels and spokes, narrowly missing the bumper of a large blue car and avoiding the teeth a small white dog by the fur on my tail.

When Sher-cat finally stopped to catch his breath I was so scared and mad that I didn't stop running. I bolted for him and with all of my might I tackled him to the ground.

"You creep you could have died! You could have died!" That was all I could say as I slapped at his face with my open paws, sitting on his stomach and holding him down.

"Don't you care? Don't you think?" I cried exasperated and he tried to squirm under me and get away.

"Get off of me, what is the meaning of this!" He growled.

"You Jerk! You nearly gave me a heart attack and you don't even care! You could have died, like, ten times back there! Don't you ever thing about anything before you…" at this point words failed me and I was overcome by his arrogance and nonchalance.

Is nonchalance the right word? I'm a cat so I'm not certain. It sounds fancy and I've heard it before though. Good gracious, what am I typing about? I'm about to get to the most exciting part!

I was upset that he didn't seem to care that he had almost died and I saw it as arrogance in the face of a large, unforgiving world that revolved around death and the continuing cycle of death. I had seen a lot of things as a stray, most of which I'm not going to disclose, but I learned a valuable lesson from that time: Nature's normal occupation is stillness. The trees and plants are still. Nature will stop at nothing to bring all of life to a screeching halt. To make everything alive still and dead like a tree or a rock.

Sher-cat bit my tummy and I tumbled off of him with one threat "NEVER do that again."

He glared at me. Well, I wouldn't say glared, he looked at me with a weird expression. Sort of amused and angry at the same time.

Suddenly I realized where we were and became horrifically scared. We were somewhere in the area that he had circled: The hunting grounds of the monster-hound.

Sher-cat told me that we were spies and that he wanted me to hang out around windows and doors and look into yards if possible to see if I could find out who had recently gotten a new dog. If I could find a dog that fitted the description, then Sher-cat and I could go back to the Yard, get some assistance and stop his reign of terror.

"What will you be doing." I asked, frightened for our well-being and our lives.

"The exact same thing. You sneak around Maple Street, I'll be on San Juan and together we should be able to come up with something. It'll definitely take less time if we split up."

"Are you sure you're not just trying to ditch me?"

Sher-cat smiled. "No, I honestly value your company and it pains me to part with you for any amount of time. But we answer to a higher calling."

I'm not much of one for detecting sarcasm, but I was almost positive he was using it in that instance.

I'm pretty sure.

Like ninety-nine point nine percent sure.

Probably.

For hours I crept up windows and listened through cracks waiting to hear the horrible blubbering, angry dog on the other side, but there was nothing. I also discovered people live interesting lives. I met a nice cat named Toby who told me his human works with dead bodies. I found it an auspicious meeting considering the circumstances.

There was one room where everyone was singing loudly and off key to each other. I was tempted to join in, but then I remembered I was spying. What kind of spy sings loudly and off key in the middle of a mission?

I climbed to the third story of the building and was beginning to feel really dizzy when I heard a human say that there were no pets allowed in the building anyway. I hurriedly scampered away before she saw me and I got in trouble, since it was clear no dog would be there.

Before I started scaling the next building I read the sign at the front. It said no pets allowed and clearly had a picture of a dog crossed out. I sure wasn't going to find a dog in that building either.

Several buildings later I was hungry and discouraged. I hadn't seen so much as a Pomeranian, much less the monster-hound and I was tired. I wondered if Sher-cat was having more luck. I came to the very end of Maple Street where a single house stood alone. It wasn't the giant buildings with hundreds of humans living in it, it was comparatively rather small. I guessed it could only hold a few humans. It was surrounded by a large gray fence, which had been white sometime in the past, but had become dilapidated and dingy.

I came to a certain part of the fence and I saw a cat's tail wriggle under the fence. Curious, I investigated.

The hole in the fence was easily four or five times larger than me and I could crawl under the fence with relative ease. When I popped up again on the other side I found myself in a large field of dying grass that was attached to the back of the house. I learned now that it's called a yard. Just like the Yard, only different. I wonder why that is?

Towards the house, with was just as gray and old-looking as the fence there were piles of junk stacked everywhere like a large metal ocean of bumpy, uncertain waves. On top of one of these hills of junk a strange black cat cleaned the dirt off of its paws from where it had slipped under the fence.

I suddenly realized I was trespassing and I tried to apologize.

I said: "I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry. Do you live here?"

The black cat regarded me silently; too busy cleaning himself to answer immediately. At first I thought he looked a bit like Sher-cat but as I got closer I realized the only thing they had in common was the dark coats. Sher-cat's coat had undertones of blue which reflected indigo in direct sunlight, like a raven's feathers. This cat was just black. Nothing really interesting.

"No."

"If you don't live here, what are you doing here?" I asked.

"Same as you." He said that nicely enough, but I felt as though he were accusing me of something.

"You're trying to find the thing that had been killing cats…right?" he asked.

"That's right!" I exclaimed happily. "Are you with the Yard?"

He didn't answer me, but smiled warmly. I took that for a yes.

"I know how to kill the dog. If you'll step up here I'll show you and you can show your friend." He patted the ground next to himself.

I was excited that I had finally made some headway and I crouched down, preparing to jump onto one of the metal wired boxes and then leap onto the solid metal sheet he was perched on.

I shook my tail as I prepared for launch and with one titanic motion I soared with ease onto the first wired box.

Suddenly though the metal gave way and I fell down into the forest of mesh. I landed hard on the metal floor and something shut with a snap above me I looked up to see that some kind have grate had closed, sealing me inside. I pawed at the grate, but it didn't give way to my urgings at all.

"That's a small animal trap." The cat said jumping off the sheet and onto the top of the crate where he peered down at me, seeming somewhat amused. "A cat is a small animal. It was unlucky for you that the trap was set up in just that way."

"Help me." I asked as he jumped to the ground, flicking his tail in a self-satisfied manner.

"The dog belongs to the Baskervilles. Every day they let him out to play in their yard from five to six-thirty. You'll find that that's the time most of the murders occurred. Of course I doubt that it would matter much to you now"

"Help me." I repeated, suddenly feeling a cold chill rustling my fur.

"If you live, tell Sherlock I'll be in touch." He sauntered over to the fence and started to crawl underneath. I heard him mutter something about dirtying his paws and then he was gone.

"Help me!" I called to where he had been. There was no response.

I cried out, hoping that a cat would pass by, but if the Yard was anything to go by cats would be avoiding this area like they avoid a bucket of water. For several minutes I cried out, hoping someone would hear but the only cat that I knew to be in the area was the creepy kitty and Sher-cat.

Sher-cat was still on San Juan Street and probably far, far away. He couldn't even hear me. I screamed as loud as I could, but for several minutes no one came.

And then I heard it. The sound of something sliding away followed by frenzied eccentric breathing and a low growl like a constant gurgle in the back of the monster's throat.

And then I saw it. It was at least five times my size with a long, ugly face and a scarred black snout which hid long white fangs that it barred for no reason.

I swallowed my cries and choked on a scream. I knew the thing to do now was to be perfectly silent, and hope that he didn't notice me.

I have the worst luck. As soon as that thing was out in the yard it began sniffing the air. Then it started sniffing the ground, and the scent trail led it right to me.

I pressed myself against the back of the cage while the monster-dog growled and snapped at the front, I could feel its hot stinky breath rustling my fur and its drool splattered at my paws.

I screamed, feeling that the last seconds of my life were upon me and the only thing keeping me from being horribly and violently torn to pieces was a few strips of metal and a few inches of empty air.

The dog bashed the cage with its huge brutish head and I fell backwards as the cage tipped over. I felt even more helpless.

Suddenly the metal began to split under the onslaught of the dog and then there was a hole big enough for him to fit his hideous muzzle through, but luckily for me, he could only just fit his muzzle through, he couldn't open his mouth enough to bite.

He opened his mouth as wide as he could and a fat, hot, pink tongue rolled out like a sheet of soft silk and he licked me repeatedly. The horror at being caressed by that slimy tongue is almost more than I can bear to write.

I opened my claws and scratched at his cold, wet nose and he yelped and withdrew his head from the cage. I felt chilled and battered, but thankfully alive, though not for long if I didn't make a quick run for it while the dog was dazed.

My instincts kicked in and I found myself bolting across the yard towards the hole in the fence that the creepy-kitty had disappeared through, but the dog had recovered from its initial shock and was right on my tail. I felt its teeth closing in around my fur, and although I was desperate not to die I made a silent prayer that my nine lives were not used in vain.

Then suddenly the dog yelped in pain again and I caught a glimpse over my shoulder of a black cat with blue tinted fur attached to the monster-dog.

"Run Watson, Run!" He cried as the dog turned on him suddenly. "Don't stop or they'll seal you in!"

He didn't have to tell me twice. Instinct brought me out of there faster than a bird can fly. In the next instant I had dove beneath the fence and the entire Yard was outside, holding a large heavy piece of sheet metal.

Lestrade grunted. "Grab ahold of this." And I seized part of the metal."

"Sher-cat! Where are you?" I cried into the hole.

At first I didn't hear his response, but then his frantic and frenzied voice floated over the yard.

"I'm safe! Drop it! Drop it! It's coming!" He cried.

That was enough for the Yard, the metal dropped and gravity locked it in place, then cats of all kinds were securing it with dirt just in time. The next second a tremendous crashing was heard on the other side of the heavy metal plate and the whole fence trembled under the strain and I could hear the horrible snarling from the other side of the fence.

"Sher-cat, Sher-cat, where are you?" I said feeling pitiful, I was certain that the monster dog of the Baskervilles was ripping him to pieces on the other side of the fence.

"Are you going to cry? Good gracious." I heard his arrogant voice from somewhere above me and I looked up.

There, silhouetted against the sun was Sher-cat climbing over the fence. He jumped down with easy, unharmed.

"You're alive!" I exclaimed.

"Brilliant deduction." He said sarcastically.

"How?" I asked.

"I fancy myself a good jumper, it was simple to leap out of reach of the dog's jaws and walk along the fence post out of harm's way. The hard part was timing it so that you had enough time to escape before the Yard sealed the dog in forever."

"How did you know where the hound was?"

"I heard a doddering old woman chattering with her odious friends about a dog that needed to be put down that belonged to the Baskervilles. They had adopted it in the past week and it had bitten their children several times. I heard that the Baskervilles lived in a simple house on Maple Street with a large back yard and a fence and then it was simple to deduce which house, somewhat more importantly, how in the world did you end up in the cat-trap? Surely you're not THAT oblivious?"

I told him all about the creepy-kitty and he smiled at my naiveté.

"He said that he would be in touch."

"That is very unfortunate news… I noticed that the hole in the fence was not only used by the dog… the wood had swatches of black cat hair caught in it… I wonder…" He muttered to himself.

"Do you thing the hound attacks were on purpose?" I asked.

"It is not impossible." He said mysteriously.

The Yard thanked us for our work and Lestrade grudgingly handed Sher-cat a small brown paper bag, which he took with great relish. I asked him what it was, but he only shook his head as he carried it in his mouth, mumbling unintelligible nonsense.

Afterwards Sher-cat showed me some cool restaurants where they throw-out lots of weird yummy food. For a house cat who doesn't have a lot of street smarts he somehow has intimate knowledge of the area. So anyway, we got home before our humans and had a fun time.

I'm glad we're safe at home now, because now I feel safe wondering who was that weird cat and how did he know Sher-cat.

Sher-cat doesn't seem to know him.

I hope we don't meet him again for a long time, or if I do meet him again I can beat him up for tricking me and almost killing me!

I feel a long eighteen hour snooze coming on. Sher-cat looks out over the city from the window and the streetlight casts a blue glow over his fur. It looks really pretty and weird.

I hope we can go on more (safer) adventures together and that I can learn more about my cat-mate.

Sincerely yours,

Watson-cat.


	3. The Adventure of the Gray Burgler

Hello out there! It's me, Watson-cat again!

I've found my new favorite thing! The other day Sher-cat brought home another little baggy, like the one Lestrade gave him. He keeps these little baggies on a table where I can't reach them, but today I jumped up and grabbed one.

I don't know what it is, but I love it. I love it I love it I love it! The bag is sealed with tape and I don't want to open it because then Sher-cat will know I went through his stuff, but I can smell whatever it is through the bag and I love it.

I spent the longest time rolling over it and trying to get the scent all over me and it was bliss! It smelled like mint and green grass and pretty girl kitties and morning sunshine and all things wonderful! I wonder if Sher-cat would know if I just kept this one…

* * *

I'm back from the vet. I've learned another of life's lessons the hard way: If it seems too good to be true, it probably is.

Sher-cat noticed I had swiped his bag, but he told me for helping him I could keep it. I thought that was really nice of him. Looking back on it now, the huge breach of character should have been a warning that something wasn't right.

I cut the bag open with my claw and dozens of wedge-shaped leaves fell out. I asked him what they were and he told me they were catnip leaves.

Catnip: that famed and mystical plant that was mentioned in reverent, hushed, tones amongst strays on the streets. Some cats said that it grew in the wild around a crystal clear stream filled with fat fish and that when cats died they visited that magical place only once before moving on to their next life. I've heard that cats were KILLED for catnip before.

And now here it was before me, the channel to the most extreme form of happiness in the world. A rare pleasure only afforded to the best of cats. I thought that I would never even have a chance to pass through a room with catnip in it, now there were a few leaves all to myself. For a brief moment I felt somewhat unworthy; then the overwhelming scent washed away all conscious thought.

Sher-cat sat on the top of the couch as I joyously bounced off of every wall, attacking everything I could reach. A piece of string billowed in the breeze that I made racing past it and I seized it with both paws laughing maniacally. I ended up pulling down some kind of tablecloth and most of the stuff on the table, but I didn't care! Something rolled across the floor and I ran after it, beating it with my paws like a solo soccer-match.

I had never felt so alive! I had never felt my heart beat so fast! I had never breathed so deeply! Every ounce of my body was completely intertwined with my soul and I knew then that I was a kitten at heart.

I heard everything: the earth-shattering sound of my breathing, traffic churning below the window, the landlady chatting to someone, Sher-cat muttering "Not the skull…"

I saw everything: everything was brightly colored and magical and visions swam before my eyes!

I felt nothing except almost more joy than I could stand. I never got tired or winded no matter how hard I ran, I never felt pain, even when I slammed my head into the walls or tripped and scraped my face against the floor. I was in a constant state of bliss, I was in euphoria!

And Sher-cat gazed on from above me, a quiet spectator to my own personal demolition derby (Dear readers; what's a derby? I'm not one-hundred percent sure. Love, Watsoncat)

As I began to sink down off of my high I also began to notice him again. His tail was flicking with amusement and I wondered if that was how he felt when he was thinking, when he was so wrapped up in his thoughts and his doings that he didn't seem to notice me until he was done. Was it just like being on catnip?

I lazily pawed at his tail as I crashed down from the catnip. It was a horrible blow, all at once I was groggy and sick and sluggish and in pain and I could barely move.

"Well, you've had a good romp." Sher-cat said, moving his tail out of my reach.

My tongue felt swollen and I fought to think through a growing haze. "Sher…I don't feel so good."

"I should think not. You really had a good run." He said chuckling. "I have no doubts you'll sleep well tonight."

"No… worse." I said as my breathing became labored and raspy. I couldn't think. I felt my body crash to the ground, just barely clinging to consciousness.

Suddenly I heard the door opening.

"Great Scott!" a human exclaimed. "We've been robbed!"

"Help..." I meowed pitifully, and then Sher-cat was by my side.

"You really don't look so well." He said. I felt like hitting him.

"The apartment is ruined." My human said. I remember feeling guilty because I had ruined the apartment, not robbers. I also recall wishing he'd notice me. I knew that I needed help, but I was scared that I wouldn't be able to get the help I needed in time.

The next thing I felt was the large, safe, warm hands of my human on my chest and faint anxious words passed between them, and then I couldn't hold on. It felt like I was suffocating and the whole world faded into black silence.

Well, I'm alright now. They rushed me to the vet and I was treated for a feline allergic reaction. Sher-cat and the weird human (Whose name I will try to learn!) worked together to figure out that I am allergic to catnip. It's apparently a really rare allergy among cats. Lucky me.

I have also learned to hate the vet. He stabbed me three times with a cold, silver needle and no one would tell me why. My human, who I thought was supposed to help me didn't even try to help; he just stood back and let the doctor work. I wish he'd have at least patted me or comforted me or something! I think I'm going to ignore him for a while.

I'm still having nervous spasms from when they took my temperature. It was so cold and weird! Then they picked me up and took me to a wall made of cages. I had been a stray before, and I had been caught by the animal police once, so it didn't take me long to realize they were throwing me into a kennel. They called it 'observation' but I knew it was a kennel.

They left me there all night. Alone. In a box. To say the least I was freaking out, but the other cats there were really nice. They assured me that the 'observation' was normal and they were just making sure that I didn't relapse and die. They told me that the needles were standard as was the thermometer and they really helped calm my fears.

Lots of cats were former-strays like me. They said they didn't like the restriction belonging to a human so they would run away, but most of them would end up coming back for food. I told them that sounded a little bit pathetic and hypocritical and they told me to shove a thermometer where thermometers apparently go.

One cat had been hit by a car; he was in the cage directly below me and he didn't think he was going to make it. I was too scared to go to sleep and he was in too much pain so we chatted for a while. He seemed like a nice old cat and I hope he's okay.

Sher-cat was somewhat apologetic when I returned. He didn't say much, but he kind of treaded carefully when he was around me, like he thought I'd be mad. It only lasted a few minutes until he realized I wasn't mad, and then he told me that he'd been experimenting on me.

He said he hadn't expected the allergy, but his scientific findings were fascinating. I didn't care. I was somewhat horrified and I didn't listen to his findings… I mean, would you?

I told him I was thinking of starting a blog like John (my human). He chuckled. Just chuckled.

Does that mean it's okay?

* * *

No cases lately and Sher-cat is starting to get anxious. I've learned something about him when he's anxious: He does weird things to alleviate the boredom.

He'll spend all day curled up on the couch with his eyes open; not sleeping, just lying there. It's creepy. At the moment he's lying there looking at me. Not saying anything just looking…What does he want?

"What do you want? You're wearing me out with your constant observation." I tell him.

"You have the most ingenious method of typing. It's quite hilarious." He said.

I give up.

* * *

There was another cat in the flat! ANOTHER CAT! Besides me and Sher-cat! I saw him! With my own two eyes! He was as gray as a ghost and he can OPEN DOORS just like I can!

Let me tell you the whole story: John (my human) was feeling bad because I'd been ignoring him since the whole vet fiasco and he'd had a rough day at work.

I had a nice day of sleeping. Sleeping is almost always nice. Anyway I was in a good mood, so when he came home he ate, got ready for bed and picked me up from off the couch where I'd been sleeping on the other human's (I swear I will learn his name some day!) robe-thingy that he wears when he doesn't feel like clothes.

"Now you're in trouble" he said holding me up to eye level.

"What did I do?" I asked.

"You shed too much; Sherlock is going to be so mad." (I REMEMBERED! It's Sherlock! :3)

"Did I soil it?"

"We'll have to wash it fast…or hide it?" He said picking it up with one hand and tucking me under his other arm. "I know where he'll never look."

He stored the robe in the refrigerator and walked up to his room with me in tow. He spent the next few minutes before bed petting me and chatting idly with himself. It was nice that he could unleash his problems on me, and I didn't mind so long as I was petted.

I guess I laid down in the crook of his arm and fell asleep. I don't remember sleeping, but I do remember waking up hungry at midnight with my tail wrapped securely and snugly around me.

At first I was disoriented, but a clattering in the room woke me all the way up. I jumped out of bed and scanned the room nervously, instinct taking over again.

At first I didn't see anything, but then there was movement out of the corner of my eye which made me look up.

I'm glad I did! There was a skinny gray cat clinging to the doorknob and when he saw that I saw him he dropped down and almost landed on me.

I overreacted and leapt under the bed and the cat took that time to jump up to the doorknob again; and here's what's crazy, he turned it! He even held the knob just like I do!

"We're being robbed! It's a cat burglar!" I shouted, caught up in the excitement. John rustled the sheets in his bed.

I heard Sher-cat grumbling in the next room and I shot down after the cat burglar yowling at the top of my lungs.

I caught up to the gray cat as he was trying to open the door out of the apartment. With a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins I tackled him and slammed him into the door.

"Watson, your stupid cat…" Sherlock began, but the noise from our cat fight was too loud to hear the rest.

He was screaming at me unintelligibly and also trying to bite my face at the same time while I was trying to avoid his teeth and shouting what was happening at the same time, like an announcer to a fight.

"He's trying to bite me; he missed! I tried to scratch him but he dodged it!"

He latched onto my ear with a lucky lunge and I cried out in pain. I could hear Sher-cat angrily attacking the door to the room he was in, shouting. "Hurry UP Sherlock! Come ON!" and I scratched gray-cat's tummy vigorously trying to get free.

He grunted in pain, but didn't let go of my ear. Instead he bit it harder and twisted his head, as though he were trying to rip it off. Burning pain bled over the side of my head as I screamed. The pain was excruciating and I thought I had lost my ear for a moment.

Finally the gray kitty let go and jumped away from me and I stood up to face him defensively. We circled each other slowly, waiting for any sign of weakness or attack. Wearily sizing each other up and rapidly plotting our next moves and trying to quickly think of some way to win the fight. I had been in a few territory scraps as a stray, but I really can't remember a cat as fierce as the gray kitty.

Gray-kitty stopped circling and I faced him preparing for a pounce or a lunge, but none came. Instead he tried to talk to me.

"Listen kid." He said in a horse whisper. "I came in here to steal that paper." He nodded towards a crumpled piece of paper that was on the ground at my feet.

"Someone asked me to steal it, but I don't really want it. The humans are coming. It's not worth a can of tuna for me to go back to the pound, so I'll cut you a deal; let me leave here and you can keep the stupid paper. I don't want it!" he seemed desperate.

John and Sherlock stepped into the room and suddenly our conversation was broken by beams of blinding light being thrown at us.

Sher-cat came out of nowhere and pinned gray-cat to the ground, growling ferociously.

"You've a lot of nerve breaking in here!" He said through gritted teeth.

The gray cat was having a major freak-out though. The humans terrified him. I noticed a long scar along the side of his body as he tried to back into a wall to escape the humans.

The humans, oblivious as ever, completely misread the situation.

"Get off of him." John said pushing Sher-cat away.

The gray cat was pushed against the wall out of sheer terror of humans. His ears were back and I could read the panic in his bulging eyes. He was too scared to even move and I saw that if John touched him he would flip out and attack him.

John must have seen it too, for his hand froze in the air above the cat. Sher-cat took the opportunity to interrogate the criminal.

"What are you doing here?" He demanded.

"Call off your human! I came here to steal a paper, but I don't want it!"

"If you don't want it why did you come?"

"Someone hired me to steal it! He gave me a meal and promised me more!"

"Who?"

"Some black cat! I don't know! Please call off your human! I just want to leave!"

John instinctively stood up and opened the door and the gray cat was gone in a blur, down the stairs and scratching against the other door to get free.

"I wonder how he got in?" John said absentmindedly as he left to open the last door and free the cat. I heard the gray cat turning the knob and John's exclamation of surprise as he let himself out and finally got away from the humans he feared so terribly.

I had calmed down now that there were other people taking care of the situation and I finally noticed the blood trickling through my fur and down my shoulder. I also noticed the dull throbbing pain in my ear.

Sherlock picked me up by the scruff and dangled me a few inches from his nose scrutinizing me. I hate being picked up by the scruff. It doesn't hurt but it's an uncomfortable tightness around my neck.

"You shouldn't have let him go, that beast needs to be put down. He's feral. Probably with rabies." He said handing me back to John when he came in through the door.

"Aw, his ear!' He exclaimed turning me over in his hands.

"I bet they've missed you at the veterinarian's office." Sherlock said sarcastically walking back to his bedroom.

Sher-cat perched on the couch. His expression betraying deep thought. I was waiting for John to put me down but he never did. He put on a coat and decided to take me back to the vet to get my ear fixed.

"Sher! I need to talk to you! The paper..!" I exclaimed as I was carried out of the flat. I don't know if he heard me. He didn't seem to react.

So I went to the all-night vet (did you know they had one? I didn't!) and they drugged me up and sewed my ear back together. It was kind of hanging off and gross. I got a few more shots for rabies and stuff and before they started operating on me I got to say hello to some of the stray cats in the kennel… I mean 'observation'.

I asked them if they had ever seen the gray cat and apparently he's a notorious stray. Everyone knew him from the scar which he'd gotten from a knife-wielding human one night as he was scavenging for food. I'd heard horror stories before about humans doing bad things to cats, but this was the first time I had actually seen the result of it. It frightened me to know there were people like that out there.

Sher-cat made fun of me for the way I acted when I got home early that morning. Apparently I couldn't walk straight and I was saying some funny things. He said I acted drunk, but I need to ask him what that is before I can take insult.

I felt bad for making John miss sleep. One of the things he told me about was how he kept falling asleep at work, and I didn't want to make that worse. I'll apologize when he gets back.

Sher-cat and I have scrutinized the piece of paper. I can't make heads or tails of it at all. Clearly I can read it, but it has a lot of big words and references to places I don't know. There is one name on the paper, but that's pretty much it.

"I can't believe someone made him face his worst fears for this paper!" I exclaimed. "It doesn't seem all that important!"

"You'd be surprised. Crime has no bounds for depravity." Sher-cat said reading the paper for the fourth time.

"Do you know who Irene Adler is?" I asked.

"Maybe, but I cannot fathom why it would interest a cat."

Now he's bored again. I was trying to sleep on the couch and he was bothering my tail. Apparently I flick it when I sleep. I also wag it when I'm mad.

I drew the line when he started to fluff it.

"Stop that!" I said pulling my long tail in around me and started to smooth it down.

"Your fur is so long. I'll wager I could concentrate the keratin in it in some kind of formula."

"You do NOT have my permission to use my fur!" I said stamping my paw. "Don't touch my tail, it's weird!"

"How so?" he asked innocently.

I give up.

* * *

**Catlock belongs to the indomitable, yet easily amused TheCaptainsideways.**

**Leave Watsoncat a message on his blog at He loves questions!**


	4. The Case of the Burnt Burgler

**Catlock belongs to TheCaptainsideways and she refuses to share. Just kidding. But visit her and Watsoncat on tumbler They love mail!**

* * *

Hello world, it's me: Watsoncat again!

So much has happened since I last typed… I feel a little dizzy. Gray-cat burglar is dead! I'll be right back.

* * *

Much better. I went to get a snack for a moment, hope you don't mind!

Maybe I should just try and start at the beginning for a moment… then I can get my thoughts in order. One night Sher-cat was sitting at his window perch as per usual and I was asleep on the couch. The next thing I knew, I was on the floor and Sher-cat was eagerly staring at me from where I had been sleeping on the couch. He'd pushed me off.

"I need your help again." He said. "Open the door."

It was almost two in the morning and I was groggy so I refused at first, but Sher-cat jumped on top of me and threatened to sit on me if I didn't do as he said. He can be a bit bossy.

Naturally I followed him out onto the street and since he didn't seem to care I decided to help him with whatever he was doing. I was still sleepy but helping Sher-cat in the past had been fun, so I resolutely decided to help him from that point on with anything he got involved with.

I wish that sounded cooler than it looks and I feel a little bit naïve, but he's my friend. On the streets cats don't really have friends so much as they have 'temporary tentative allies' but there is still a saying among cats that friends follow friends into traffic. I'm not sure if that translates for humans the same way, but basically a good cat will follow a friend anywhere.

Just outside our building we ran into Lestrade again. His long gray fur was wet and tangled and he dragged it along the concrete like a mop, shuffling rather sulkily.

"What's up?" Sher-cat said.

"Strangest death I've ever seen: a cat was burned to death on an open empty street. We've had the Scent Cats hunting all over the body and the area, but there were no traces of an accelerant like gas nor matches or anything. There's orange powder everywhere and the cat's tail is missing."

"Was he a Manx?" I asked, remembering a chance meeting of a breed of cat that is born without tails.

"No, we've already identified the cat. He's a local stray from this area known as Ghost. And he HAD a tail."

"Show us the crime scene." Sher-cat said, his ears twitching and betraying his great excitement. I had known him long enough to know he was happiest when he was trying to solve some kind of puzzle. Today might have been Christmas for him.

I had hardened myself for seeing the body, but it was still a shock to see a cat lying on the ground as though it were sleeping and knowing it was never going to wake up. There were long swirls of orange powder up and down the trash-covered alley where he had died and they stood out like rays of sunlight against the black night sky.

It was an even worse shock to have recognized the cat. It was the gray cat that had broken into our home to steal some paper two days ago. I couldn't tell from the face but under the charred fur I saw a long jagged scar that he had taken from a human with a knife long ago.

"Sher…" I started, but he motioned for silence. He slunk around the body like a predator ready to eat its prey. He was looking at everything with his inquisitive eagle eyes.

Finally he turned to us and said. "The orange powder is used to seal fireworks. Some were probably strapped to his tail. He ran up and down the alley as they went off. But the burns weren't what killed him."

I crept up to the dead cat that had pleaded with me so pitifully on that night, feeling infinitely sad that he was gone, and in such a terrible way. I looked to his open mouth with his tongue lolled out and had an idea. I sniffed his mouth and aside from the scent of roasted flesh (which I will not describe) I didn't smell any chemicals or anything. Next I checked his toes and saw that they were very well kept for a stray, and also that the pink paw pads had turned blue.

"He probably died of shock; either that or cardiomyopathy." I said.

Both Sher-cat and Lestrade gave me the strangest looks for a long time. It was as though they had just noticed I was even there.

"Cardio-who-now?" Danderson said from where he was crouched over the body.

"His toes are blue, which indicates some sort of failure of the heart. It's unlikely that he had a heart attack, but it's possible he might have had a condition that he didn't know about. It's much more likely that he died of shock, since the fireworks…"

"So you're a doctor now?" Lestrade said, shooting me a hard stare, like he didn't believe me.

"Perfect!" Sher-cat exclaimed. "Could you take a look at something Doctor Watsoncat?"

He ushered me over to where the cat's tail had been and together we looked up the burnt butt of another cat. I can't make this stuff up, it really happened; no matter how many times I wish that it hadn't.

"What am I looking at Sher-cat?" I asked.

"The ligature marks from where the tail had been severed of course." He snapped annoyed. "What do you see?"

I looked. "Jagged, not at all straight… It changes from here to here…I…Goodness! They're teeth marks!"

"Exactly!" Sher-cat said.

"So the tail was gnawed off…by a cat?" I asked, suddenly feeling sick to my stomach.

"Yes! Then it was dragged over here…" Sher-cat followed a trail of black ash that cut through the swirls of orange dust. It led into the open street. Sher-cat followed it with his nose to the ground like a bloodhound, never once looking up to or acknowledging traffic.

He found a sewer grate and cried at us "I've found it! It's down here!"

"Sherlockcat! Get out of traffic!" Lestrade bellowed as a car honked its horn missing Sher-cat by inches. He muttered to himself "I swear, one day we're going to be scraping him off the road."

Sher-cat returned to us happily, looking proud. "The sewer grate is filled with water and the fireworks, burnt as they are, float!"

"Great. You found the tail. What does that tell us?" The other cat (I still haven't learned her name yet) snapped angrily.

"I'm not sure." He said, still bouncing with excitement. "Some cat took the time to gnaw off his tail and throw it away."

"Maybe he did it for revenge or a warning to other cats?" Lestrade offered.

"Maybe. Let's go home." He said suddenly turning to me.

The sun was starting to rise and I didn't argue but I was surprised at how quickly he could change his mind.

"Wait, the case isn't done yet." Danderson complained.

"Is so." Said Sher-cat. "Ghost ran into a small group of humans, probably two or three who grabbed him and strapped fireworks to his tail. As they burned him he ran in terror trying to escape the flames and died of fright. Case closed."

"He's right. We'd better move before the road kill truck comes for him."

"Oh, and Lestrade… Stay out of the fish tank." Sher-cat said grinning.

"I'll do what I want, thanks!" Lestrade said, his fur bristling defensively.

"How did you know he'd been in a fish tank?" I asked as we ambled home.

"He has a fish tank at home. If he went from his home, to the Yard, to the scene of the crime and then to get us and back there is no place where he could have gotten so wet. I know he has an affinity for fish which borders on obsession, therefore it was easy to make the connection."

"You make it sound so simple." I said

"It is simple." He said "Obvious and simple."

I felt somewhat offended at this, it sounded like an insult and the way he said it sounded insulting. I waited a moment to see if he would follow it up with something, but he didn't even react. I guess he really just thought it was obvious and he spoke his mind. He does that a lot, and sometimes what he says is hurtful, but he only says it to be mean about half of the time. I think.

"What's not so simple is why. Why the tail?" he said mostly to himself. "Could it have been a punishment for failing to steal the paper? A warning to other cats who were thinking about betraying some criminal master thief?"

"Aren't you being a bit hasty?" I remarked. "There's no evidence of a 'master thief' or anything. It could still just be an accident; cruel humans with too much time and a poor cat in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Yes, but isn't it suspicious that the cat would be horrified by humans, avoiding them at all costs, yet would stumble in front of not one, but two or more? And that he would brave a flat with two humans for some abstract piece of paper?"

"You have a point." I said meekly.

"And isn't it odd that the cat he said employed him matches the description of the cat who you met in the Baskerville's yard?" he said hopping excitedly.

"So do you." I pointed out. "He just said a 'black cat'; there must be dozens of black cats in the city!"

"Something's afoot! I know it!" he assured me.

We made it back into the apartment before John woke up, but Sherlock caught us sneaking in. He seemed intrigued, but he didn't mention us to John. He's been watching us more closely. I hope he never catches me typing all this… He does all sorts of weird experiments in the kitchen and I don't want to be his next subject. I have a vivid image in my mind of him dissecting my brain which I would like to avoid at all costs. I'm going to act like a dumb cat until he loses interest again. Sher-cat told me that it shouldn't be too hard for me… Hey!

Sher-cat has been sitting in the window for several hours now. I don't think that he's completely through with Ghost's death, but he won't tell me what he's thinking. He actually gets pretty mad when I ask.

* * *

Just got back. Just barely got back alive. I wish I could have one adventure with Sher-cat that didn't end in a fight or something.

I took a nap and woke up to John loudly complaining that when he went out to the store Sher-cat snuck out behind him. He didn't notice until he saw the black cat bolting down the street. Apparently he'd been looking for him the whole time and he hadn't gone to the store. Sherlock was really upset about John not getting the milk, but I was worrying about Sher-cat. Who knows what could happen to him on the streets alone?

I decided to see if I could track him down. I walked up to the door, but before I could jump up and twist the knob I felt I needed to assure my humans that I'd be alright.

"Goodbye guys." I meowed. "I'll bring Sher-cat home soon."

"Look, even HE'S worried about your cat." John said pointing at me.

"The cat will come back when it gets hungry" Sherlock said.

"If your cat is anything like you that might as well be never." He pointed out.

"Don't wait up." I called over my shoulder as the door swung open. I left them chatting comfortably like that.  
Humans are a tad bit oblivious, but sometimes it really feels like they understand what I'm saying. Sometimes.

The first place I decided to try looking was the area where Ghost had died. I had a hunch that he was still investigating the death and probably trying to follow up his 'master thief' theory with some evidence.

I got lost and ended up at the restaurant Sher-cat had shown me on our first adventure. My stomach lead the way and the rest of me followed. After a quick snack I tried to remember where the crime happened and I wandered around until I saw something familiar, after that it was pretty easy to find my way there. I could still smell some burnt fur.

I crept along the edge of buildings cloaked in shadows, doing my best to avoid the harsh orange lights from the street lamps just in case the humans who killed Ghost were still around. It was hard to move forward at all with the knowledge that I was purposefully wandering into an area where the humans were cat killers. The only thing that kept me moving was the chilling thought that my friend could be the next burnt body the Yard investigates.

I tried to push the image away, but it stuck to me and kept me moving when rational thought told me to turn around and run.

There is a cool trick that cat's do to mark their territory called scenting. I feel I must describe it for humans, because there really is no other way they can know it. It's one of those cat things that just don't translate for humans. Basically scenting is when cats rub up against buildings and things to mark their territory by activating scent glands on our skin, especially in our face, foreheads and tails. Basically if a cat rubs up against a tree, that cat is saying: "This is my tree and I've been here." And every other cat can smell that and either challenge it with a scent of their own, or respect it and move on.

As I clung to the buildings, I began to smell something familiar. The closer I came to the site of the murder the stronger, and therefore fresher it became. It took me a few minutes to realize that I had been following Sher-cat's scent and that I recognized it from his markings in the apartment. He'd been clinging to the sides of buildings like I'd taught him to do and had probably rubbed off his scent by accident. At least I was sure I was going in the right direction.

As I came up upon the alleyway I saw a human juvenile sitting on the steps outside a building, hunched over like a deformed human, hiding from the light. It was hard to make out exactly how big or small the human was when he slouched over, and I had an irrational fear that he was some sort of freak and that he would suddenly uncurl his body and have a terrible hump and disproportionately large arms like an ape and a horrible face that looked as though it had been mangled by something. Alone in the shadows and frightened I shuddered.

I jumped behind the stairs at the house that sat across from where the juvenile was sitting and watched him tremble slightly. I say juvenile because he was clearly too large to be a child, but not quite as large as the humans I was used to. He moved slightly and I peered out from behind the concrete stairs watching him. I couldn't see Sher-cat anywhere, though I could tell he had to be there somewhere. I wondered if he was hiding like I was, only better.

Suddenly the door to house I was right in front of burst open with a flood of light and I ducked behind the concrete pillar just in time to avoid another human running down the stairs jabbering excitedly.

"I found some more Cecil."

"NICE Cory, I've got the tape right here."

The human that was hunched over sat up and to my horror Sher-cat was wrapped up in his arms, kicking and squirming, trying to get free. The human had grabbed Sher-cat's hind legs and front legs in his two enormous hands and he squeezed them together while Sher flipped around on his lap like a hooked fish, yowling plaintively.

The other human (Cory I guess) held two blue-and-white striped cylinders in his hands, and I made an intuitive leap that those were fireworks and that the two humans that had Sher-cat were the ones that killed Ghost. Luckily enough I was right.

The human Cory grabbed a roll of duct tape (not DUCK tape, Sher-cat says) with one of his hands, dropping the fireworks into the lap of the human named Cecil where they rolled against Sher-cat who began thrashing more desperately. For a moment he looked around, seeking any means of help or escape and I caught a real flicker of fear in those usually cold eyes. He didn't seem to see me in the shadows and that was important for me. If I was going to help him, AND escape with my life I would need to surprise both humans.

I crept a little bit closer, ducking into the alleyway where Ghost lay just hours earlier. I knew that Sher-cat would likely be put in the alley to run as well, but hopefully I could think of a plan before they set him on fire.

I watched the shadows at my feet, making sure I never stepped outside of them and into the light and with the darkness on my side I was able to creep right behind the stairs where the two humans were preparing to torture him to death.

I swallowed the last of my worries and concerns and let my instinct take over again, maintaining just enough conscious thought to control my actions, and not enough to frighten me stiff and motionless.

I looked up into the swollen, bloated white face of Cory the human. It was garishly pale in the orange glow and twisted in a cruel expression of delight, with a thin, sharp mouth and dry, cracked lips which were visited by his thick red tongue making them shiny and slimy. He had black soulless eyes that would have suited a dog better than a man, devoid of thought and feeling. Looking up into that human, John with his soft warm caressing hands and bowl of food was a distant memory.

I saw him pick up Sher-cats tail and rub it with his stubby, grimy fingers. His dark eyes took on a malicious glint as he stroked the tail twice, pulling it out as Sher-cat tried to pull it closer to him and away from the human. The human took the tape and tore off a long strip with a ripping noise that was shattering against to the quiet of the night. My time was close.

I prepared to launch myself right at Cory's face, but then I remembered I was supposed to be trying to save Sher-cat and I readjusted myself to attacking the hands of Cecil, his captor.

"Can we do another after this Cor?" Cecil asked, his voice dripping with thinly veiled excitement.

"Naw, these're the last ones my dad bought me. I'm broke till the end of the month."

"Shame." He said holding Sher-cat out, upside down and complaining loudly.

I saw my chance to attack, but I forced myself to wait. Cory wrapped a bit of tape around the base of Sher-cat's tail and I didn't like attacking when so many human hands were in one place at the same time. I didn't want to be snatched up and tied to the end of the other firework, which would have been no help at all. I watched patiently for Cory the human to reach down and grab for the fireworks before I launched my attack.

Screaming, I lunged out of the shadows with my claws and fangs bared and I drove them all down unto the unprotected bare arm of Cecil the human. Cecil jerked his arm wildly around, dropping Sher-cat and making to beat me with his free hand, but I used the inertia from his thrashing to launch myself down onto the side walk.

"Run Sher, RUN!" I yelled, already kicking my feet as fast as they would go, but Sher-cat needed no more convincing to get out of there. In a flash he was ahead of me and moving further away, just a blue-black streak on the side walk.

For a moment I heard the colossal footsteps of the two boys behind us, swearing angrily as they sought to regain their lost victim and that sent a cold chill through my heart that threatened to paralyze me. But after Sher-cat and I rounded a few corners we couldn't hear them at all anymore. Nonetheless Sher-cat didn't stop until we were almost back at out building.

When he finally did slow down to a halt, he was so out of breath that it took him several seconds to say anything. I was even worse since I hardly ever exercise.

"Well…huff, puff, huff… That was an unexpected …huff, puff… delay, huff..."

"Unexpected delay?" I cried. "You almost died! Are you crazy?"

We both found it impossible to answer for several minutes until we had completely caught our breath.

"I made a bit of an error, but it was enlightening nevertheless!" He claimed proudly.

"What on earth could you possibly have learned that was worth dying for?" I asked incredulously.

"I was hoping to trace Ghost's employer by asking around and seeing if I could link him from the point of his death back to when he was assigned to burgle our flat, but it appears my inquiries lead me in the wrong direction."

"That's not a good enough reason." I growled. "You could have died. You should have seen John when he came back from searching for you! He was gone for hours! You've probably worried him sick!"

Sher-cat became very quiet for a moment and I couldn't see his expression.

"… I'm glad you came…when you did." he said almost grudgingly.

"That's not a 'thank you'." I complained, but he ignored me as we walked back to the flat side by side.

"You'd better make it up to John at least." I warned him as we approached the flat. He, still silently, ignored me.

When I opened the door to the flat John had gone to bed, but Sherlock was still awake and smoking. He watched us amusedly as we meandered in, disheveled, worn and tired.

"We're back!" I said.

"He's a human. He doesn't understand you." Sher-cat scolded me.

"Welcome back boys." Sherlock said flipping a lit cigarette in between his fingers. "I'll bet you've had fun."

"Did you miss us?" I asked.

"John missed you." He said abstractly.

"It's uncanny that he can assume what to say, but he's still just saying things randomly. He's not listening to you at all." Sher-cat insisted.

"I know." I said. "Maybe that's why I like talking to them, because I know no one's listening."

Sherlock came over and yanked the tape off of Sher-cat's tail. It was really stuck to the fur and he yelped in surprise and pain before darting to his window sill to stare at the sleeping city sulkily. Sherlock stared at the tape for a while and I wondered what, if anything, he could see.

Sher-cat ate a bunch this morning, since we'd skipped dinner last night and he seems to be in good spirits. John was ecstatic to see us both back in the apartment in the morning and Sher-cat made up with him by letting John pet him. Sher-cat hates being touched and John was really impressed with how well he handled being petted for the first time. I laughed at his grouchy face while John was petting him.

He hasn't given up on the theory that something deeper was behind ghost's death, though he won't talk about it, as expected. I asked him if he thought it was a 'master thief' and he won't say. He won't say anything other than he's thinking about it, which tells me only that it must be interesting for him.

In other news: John got the milk the next day. The Yard dropped by and we told them where the killers lived and how to avoid them and they promised to post a bulletin to all cats. I thought I was getting a tummy rub from Sherlock the other day, but he was just rolling me off of his table and I fell to the floor. I kind of hit my head and that kind of ripped my hurt ear a little. I got blood on the couch and John got mad. I found a roach in my food dish and I killed it.

Just another normal few days.

Sincerely yours,

Watsoncat


	5. The Adventure of the Sudden Brother

**Watsoncat and company belong to the immaculately polished and rarely sticky theCaptainsideways. Feel free to visit both on twitter.**

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I probably should have known something was up when Sherlock started putting towels into a box. No, I should have known when I heard him muttering about the landlady. Maybe I should have been alerted as soon as John asked him to smooth things over with Mrs. Hudson, but it wasn't until he started cutting holes in that box that my delicate inner sense of danger sensed his intentions.

I ran into John's room and ducked down under the bed and stayed there. I wanted to tell Sher-cat what his human was planning, but I was too scared to move. He had no way of knowing for sure, he'd never experienced abandonment like I had. I knew that if we were put in the box, we would be thrown out of the apartment. It was exactly what my old family did.

Fear clutched at my stomach as my thoughts raced around in semi-circles in my head. What if it wasn't both of us, what if it was only Sher-cat? What if he only wanted to get rid of me? Would John let him? Would he be too late to stop him?

I heard the creaking of his shoes in the hall and I stopped breathing. I felt like my eyes were bulging out of my head with fear.

"Here kitty-kitty." He cooed enticingly, but I could hear the cold edge in his voice that spoke of a hunting spirit. He was looking for me and not for fun either.

"I have a nice fish for you." He said, suddenly sounding convincing. I rose to follow him, but forced myself to lie down and remain silent. I wasn't THAT dumb.

The next thing I knew I was staring at him face-to-face and his gray eyes lit up with triumph. The first place he had checked was under the bed.

"Here you are you little beast." He said reaching out for me with one wiry arm. I made to run to the other side, but he seized my hind leg in an iron grip and I tripped, falling onto the hard floor with a grunt. He dragged me out from under the bed by my leg and picked me up dolefully.

I began begging: "No Sherlock! I can change! Give me a chance! I don't want to go!" but he was oblivious to my pleas.

With the air of nonchalance he dropped me into the cardboard box and closed the flaps over my head, holding them down with the flat of his hand and cutting off any escape. It was dark in the box and I had to crouch because of how small it was, but beams of light poured in through the air-holes he had cut I peered through the holes and saw Sher-cat sitting at his window where he'd been moping all day.

Sher-cat sensed Sherlock coming for him and he turned and glared frostily at him with a defiant thrust of his chin.

"You don't actually believe you can get me in that box, do you?" he asked with a ripple of suppressed rage.

"Come here kitty."

"I think not." Sher-cat stood up and almost lazily turned to face Sherlock. "You're outmatched here Sherlock. It's technically still two against one."

"Come here you stupid cat."

"That's an insult and a lie."

They stared at each other for a moment, neither one moving. Then Sherlock made a grab for Sher-cat who jumped easily out of his way, leapt down unto the floor and ran through the apartment.

"I swear." Sherlock muttered between gritted teeth "Why cats? Why not fish? It's not illegal to eat your fish." He picked up the box I was in and I rolled around uncontrollably, slamming into the sides as he followed Sher-cat through the flat.

"Diabolical…" I heard Sher-cat mutter.

"What's wrong kitty?" Sherlock laughed. "Nowhere to hide? Not so smart now, are you?"

I couldn't stand up in the box without wobbling uncontrollably. It felt like Sherlock might just drop me. I decided to be brave and I kicked the box with all of my might, and it worked! He dropped me, but the box landed upside down and I still couldn't get out.

Sherlock left me there and went to catch Sher-cat. The only thing I ended up doing was freeing up his other hand. The towel was over my head and I couldn't see a thing, and there wasn't enough room in the box to maneuver my way out of the towel so I just sort of stood there trying to pull the thing off of me.

I heard Sher-cat complaining and footsteps and thought my fate was sealed. There was a flood of light that surged from everywhere tinted pink. I realized that the box was off and I quickly fought to unwrap myself from the towel, but in a flash Sherlock had seized my tummy and chucked me into the open box.

When I had pulled the cloth off of my eyes I was just in time to see the last cracks of light fade into nothingness. With a desperate scream I threw myself at the lid and for a brief second the light returned, but Sherlock slammed his hand against the lid and it was gone in an instant.

"Calm down." Sher-cat said angrily. "You're over reacting." But I responded with an unintelligible growl. I was beyond the point of panic and starting to wander into hyper-panic. Dozens of scenarios flashed through my mind and in my fear they all sounded plausible; Sherlock mailing us to a scientific institute because he realized we are smarter than average humans, Sherlock driving to some strange part of town and leaving us there so he could have more of the flat to himself, Mrs. Hudson adopting a no-pet policy and making us leave.

All I could think about was those two human juveniles from the Case of the Burnt Burglar who killed cats for fun and how horrible they seemed compared to sweet John. All I could think about was the burning claw of hunger that had torn away at me for months as I wandered the lonely unforgiving streets, wet and dirty and starving. All I could think about was the street cats, who saw your hunger and desperation and mirrored it in their own eyes and hated you for showing it to them and who would tear at you and make you run when all you wanted was a kind word.

In my mind I was reacting just right. He was UNDER reacting.

I raced around the box with my head ducked down low so that it wouldn't scrape the ceiling calling Sherlock terrible names while also pleading with him hopelessly. I heard the sound of duct tape being pulled off of a roll and I lay down on the brink of crying.

"He's sealing us in." Sher-cat said.

I moaned and lay down. It was out of my hands, there was nothing I could do. I felt like crying.

"Are you crying?" Sher-cat said incredulously.

"Not yet."

He sighed from the other corner of the box. "Trust me when I say this: It's probably not what it seems. I know what you're thinking. Don't worry, if he wanted us gone he would probably just shoot us."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" I asked.

"No. It's supposed to make you think logically; an arduous and nearly impossible task that I, for some reason, have undertaken." He said haughtily.

"Listen closely and see if you can follow my reasoning. How many ways are there to get rid of a cat?"

"I don't know… hundreds, thousands." I said thoughtfully.

"Good. Do you know what the penalty for animal cruelty is in this country?"

"No."

"It's a large fine. He'll only have to pay money."

"That's not fair!"

"Be quiet and listen. He doesn't seem to like hassles so if he was going to get rid of us he would probably either kill us, and hid the evidence or just leave us right outside. Sound right?"

"Well yes…but…"

Sher-cat might have gone on, (It looked like he had multiple scenarios worked out too) but at that moment Sherlock picked up the box and sent Sher-cat tumbling into me.

"Oof!" He grunted elbowing me hard in the ribs and knocking the wind out of me. "It's a good thing you're so fluffy. Otherwise that might have hurt!"

My head was reeling from where he'd kicked it and I had no patience for him at the moment "Get off!" I cried.

The floor of the box shifted and trembled as he carried us outside. I heard the cars and I felt the heat from within the box and my mouth went dry.

"I think he's really going to get rid of us." I said trembling. "And there isn't anything John or anybody can do about it."

"If he drops us anywhere in the city I can lead us home, but I'm telling you he's not getting rid of us."

"What if he's having us put down?" I whined.

"Now you're being irrational!" Sher-cat spat at me as he slid to one corner of the box which was apparently tilted at an angle.

It was a long bumpy trip in the dark stifling box. Sher-cat tried to talk to me once or twice, but I was too freaked out to handle any sort of chatting. I must have said something mean because he lapsed into silence as well.

Finally we were put down somewhere and I prepared to be thrown into some street, or, knowing Sherlock off some bridge but nothing came.

And then we heard the ringing of a door bell and footsteps running away. We were on someone's door stoop. I glanced at Sher-cat who blankly stared at me, reading my reaction.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"No clue." He said. For a moment I believed him, until the door opened. The scent of another cat billowed out with a gust of air conditioning and Sher-cat's face rearranged into the darkest expression I'd seen in a while.

We heard a woman's voice as we were picked up again and shaken slightly. The musical chime of a phone signaled our decent to the ground once more. I was beginning to feel queasy from being moved so much. With an enormous jolt that sent us sliding into each other we were picked up again and brought into the cold house.

A new fear had gripped my throat and made it impossible to ask Sher-cat the urgent question of where we were and why. He himself was silent and his expression was distant and cold.

I listened closely, trying to catch any hint of who was around or what had become of us.

"Package from your brother, sir." A woman said clearly as we landed roughly on some table or something.

"Toss it out the window." A deep voice said in a careless drawl as a chill of terror took over me. The box was picked up again and I almost fainted as my heartbeat sped up into one long drumroll.

"Wait, wait." He said. "You'd actually do it, wouldn't you?"

"Sir?"

"Give it to me; he doesn't just SEND things you know. There must be some reason for it."

The box was passed from one pair of hands to another and I breathed a sigh of relief. We were safe, for now.

"Get away from the center of the box." Sher-cat whispered.

"Why?" I asked.

"He has to cut the box open…" Before he could finish his warning, a long, gleaming silver blade suddenly dropped through the ceiling and began to saw back and forth, straight towards where my legs were resting.

With a moan I jumped out of the way of the knife as it tore the ceiling in half. I curled into a ball, hoping that this fiasco would just abruptly end when I made myself as small as possible, but the knife made a few more passes on either side before the box could be opened.

When fingers slipped under the cardboard I couldn't take being enclosed any longer. I jumped into the fissures of light and into the unknown environment.

"What in the..?" the human exclaimed as I bolted past him and catapulted myself onto the ground.

The first thing I saw was a table and I ducked down beneath it before trying to analyze the human or the environment. Once I was safe hiding under something I peeked out to check on the human.

He was tall. Really tall and he seemed ever taller from where I was pressed against the floor. He gazed down at me with steely set eyes and I had the distinct sensation of being glared at by someone important. He wore a perpetual expression of superiority, even when looking surprised. His face was round with cherub cheeks and he might have looked nice when he smiled. But he wasn't smiling.

"A cat?" he threw open the flaps on the cardboard box and Sher-cat calmly jumped out.

"Cats? What?"

I crawled out from beneath the table and stared at the man, waiting for an explanation.

He reached into the box, where I thought there was only a towel and pulled out a note that I hadn't noticed while I had been freaking out.

"Dearest Brother, [he read]

Going to be gone for a few days. Take care of our cats the black one only needs some food and a place to rest, the fluffy one will need a soft bed lots of food and attention and this antibacterial cream rubbed on its injured ear at night.

-SH

There was a tube taped to the floor of the box that I also hadn't noticed and the man picked it up and stared at it incredulously. He glanced down at me and I smiled embarrassed.

"Sorry…about this." I said as nicely as I could while he crumbled the paper angrily. I thought he might kick us out, but he nicely patted me on the head before storming out the front door.

"See, I told you there was nothing to worry about." Sher-cat said arrogantly.

"What? Who was that guy? Where are we? There's plenty to worry about!" I shouted.

"We're at my brother's house. That was my brother's human."

My jaw dropped. "You have a brother?"

"I wasn't born in a litter of one you know." He said sarcastically rolling his eyes.

"Why didn't you mention him to me sooner?" I asked.

"You didn't ask." He replied.

"Actually it's because he doesn't like Me." a gentle voice floated down from above me somewhere and I turned around to take my first real glimpse of the room we were in. It was a white room with tints of beige and flesh tones that gave it the air of being really fancy. The room was mostly dominated by an enormous fuzzy-looking castle-thing that stretched up to the ceiling and from the top tower I saw a brown head gazing down at us.

Sher-cat made a smacking sound with his lips that denoted his obvious displeasure. "Hello My'."

The cat answered him in the same curt, short tone. "Hello Sher'."

I could have cut the tension with my claw, and the animosity made me really uncomfortable. For several second they sat in terse silence.

"Well." The brown cat said.

"Well." Sher-cat snapped.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" he said, his head halfcocked at me.

"Why?" Sher-cat said "You already know him."

I jumped in surprise. How did he already know me? We'd never met. Had we?

"Manners." His brother said smugly "Are clearly a subtle art lost on you."

Sher-cat stalked away to find a window somewhere leaving me alone with his brother. To say the least I was fighting the sensation of wanting to run away and hide, but at least our humans didn't abandon us. That was a relief.

"I apologize for my brother; he can be a little bit standoffish. (I think that's what he said. It was a big word like that) It's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance Dr. Watsoncat." He said leaning farther over the platform above me, as if readying himself to jump on my head.

"The pleasure is mine…Hey, wait a moment! You DO know me!" I cried.

"Guilty as charged. I had to look you up as soon as I heard you were living with Sherlock. How is he lately?"

"Is his name really Sherlock? Just like the human?" I asked.

"His name is Sherlock Jr. I believe John picked it out. How is he lately?" he repeated patiently.

"Fine." I said feeling a bit foolish. "Great!"

"Hmm. He won't talk to me about anything. I'll take your word on it." He leapt down and missed me by mere inches, but he seemed to have excellent control over his body, which when revealed to me looked rather unwieldy.

He was a big cat with stocky legs and long, thick, silky brown fur that dragged across the carpet. He gave me the sense that he had a lot of inertia hidden somewhere in his body, but all I immediately took notice of was the absent gaze in his eyes, just like when Sher-cat was focused on a hard problem, only the expression never went away.

"I'm sorry." I told him somewhat intimidated "I don't think I caught your name."

"My name is Mycat, Mycat Holmes." he said proudly.

He offered to show me around his house since I would be staying there and I followed him shyly. He gave me the impression that manners should be used at all times around him, but I don't know many manners so I was really scared.

He showed me the location of the two litter boxes and instructed me on which one to use (Which was good. It would have been embarrassing to use the wrong one!) He also told me about the scratching castle, that big carpet-thing I was telling you about in the first room. He said I could sharpen my claws and climb on it and at first I was overjoyed, but then he told me that cats weren't allowed in many of the rooms or on any of the furniture and it was less impressive. Basically The only places that we WERE allowed to sleep on were the cat beds (he had two) and the scratching post. The whole house made me feel like I was in a really posh and sophisticated place that seemed too fancy for any but the most calm and well-bred cats, Like Mycat.

Sher-cat had found a large window high off the ground and he sat at the window focused intensely on the outside as we walked past him. I said hi and he grunted in reply. Mycat said he wasn't thrilled to see him and that they were somewhat frosty to each other. Knowing Sher-cat I can see why, but Mycat seemed nice enough. I guess it's just sibling rivalry. I used to have it with my sister, Hairy but I don't see her much anymore.

When we went to the kitchen Mycat showed me some of his amazing skills by leaping into an open pantry and scaling a few levels. I didn't think he could do it seeing how…bulky he was…

He knocked over a few cans and rolled them out for me. They said Classic Pate Seafood Platter in large yellow words.

"I hope you don't mind a sudden diversion, but I was wondering if you would like to indulge in a fast treat, seeing as you are a guest here."

I told him I wouldn't mind and he showed me how to open a pop can with my nails. The cans were filled with some kind of greasy, slimy, and lumpy something swimming in gravy.

Mycat threw away the lids of the can in a nearby open trashcan while I stared at the amorphous substance in front of me trying to discern what he might want me to do with it. It almost sounded like he wanted me to eat it, but I couldn't fathom how.

I waited for him to return and politely watched him for some clue as of what to do. To my surprise he bent over and started eating the substance straight from the can with a faint squelching sound. I felt ill.

I thought it would have been rude not to eat after I had been offered the food, but I was having trouble bringing myself to eat it at all. It was a flat lump of faintly pink substance. Beads of perspiration appeared when it was exposed to the open air and the yellow-brown gravy oozed over the surface slightly with chunks of indiscernible material floating over it. I say all of this, but I've omitted the one major deciding factor: It smelled divine.

I closed my eyes and just sort of dove into the can, letting my nose and stomach lead the way. I took a blind bite and found it to be cold and clammy and it had the consistency of silt, but as soon as it hit my tongue I forgot all about its appearance and I only knew bliss.

It had the wonderful, wonderful potency of fish and the gravy seemed to explode with flavor in my mouth. It had the lovely, tingling sensation that tantalized every inch of my tongue and I drooled uncontrollably as I lapped up every iota (little piece) of food with my inquisitive tongue that poked and investigated every part of the can's smooth round inside.

Too soon it was gone and I was lapping ceaselessly at an empty can.

"That was amazing!" I said turning to Mycat who had finished long before me and was busy cleaning his face. "Do you eat like that all the time?"

"No not all the time." He admitted as he licked the last smears of gravy from off his paw. "I'm on a bit of a diet lately."

"I see."

Mycat was staring at me again, and with his piercing eyes it felt like he was staring through me.

"So tell me about Sherlock…? Is he eating well?" he asked, practically pinning me to the wall with the extra emphasis on the word 'well'.

"He's fine." I said becoming uncomfortable again. "I make sure he eats every day, even when he doesn't want to."

"Good… you're a good friend." He said.

We sat in silence for a moment. I offered to throw both of our empty cans away and he let me. I had the distinct sensation that his eyes followed me while I was turned around.

"I was wondering if you might do me a little favor…" he said.

At that moment however Sher-cat chose to stroll into the kitchen and abruptly our conversation came to a halt.

"I smell canned food. How's the diet Mycat?" he said staring at his brother amusedly.

"Fine!" Mycat said his silky fur bristling slightly and indignantly.

"Don't go turning Watsoncat against me." he said smiling sardonically.

"Who do you think I am?" he said.

"Do you have any dry food?" Sher-cat asked. Mycat showed him where the dry food was and I was promptly forgotten about. That's okay though; it was a little bit uncomfortable getting caught in between them.

Right now I'm typing on the human's computer. Mycat told me not to, but I couldn't help it I needed to tell someone what was going on. Sher-cat and I are going to be here for a while, though we're not sure how long. Mycat and his human went to bed at the exact same time and the only time I can type seems to be when they're both asleep.

It was funny. I wanted to sleep and Mycat pointed me to a cat bed. I laid down and curled up and was comfortable when I suddenly felt a pinching in my ribs. I looked up and Mycat was biting me! I rolled over and he apologized.

"I'm so sorry." He said. "But that's my spot."

Then he lay down and curled himself up and went to sleep. The funny thing was he wasn't even over there when I wanted to sleep; he just came over to ensure I wasn't in his spot.

I asked Sher-cat and he said that Mycat was a cat of particular habits and that he didn't stray much from his habits and that he was a bit lazy. Apparently his cat bed was one of his habits.

Sher-cat and I are the only ones awake right now. I look over my shoulder and see his silhouette on one of the top platforms of the cat-castle and think he's so mysterious. I feel like there's so much I don't know about him. I think Mycat is the key to understanding more, but I don't quite feel right pumping him for info, especially since Sher-cat doesn't seem that close to him in the first place.

I also don't want to pry if Sher-cat doesn't want to tell me, but there are some things I can't learn by asking either. Some of these things I've learned already but I feel like I'm always going to be missing some pieces.

I hope John and Sherlock come back for us soon. Mycroft (the human in the house) isn't too happy about taking care of us. He isn't mad at us, but he definitely seems to be mad ABOUT us. Still, he put the medicine on my ear (which is healing nicely by the way) and he fed us so I don't mind. He seems like a busy important person. Also, he doesn't like to be brushed up against. I went to give him some affection for his troubles and he kicked me a bit. It didn't hurt, but I was surprised and a little disheartened.

"Your tail bristles up like a bottle-brush when you're alarmed, did you know that." Sher-cat's voice floats up from the darkness and I know he's watching the back of my head.

"No, I didn't."

"I wonder if I could use it to clean beakers?" he said absentmindedly.

I turn around and see the two glowing eyes reflecting the light from the computer screen floating in otherwise perfect darkness.

"You do not have my permission to use my tail." I remind him.

"Go to sleep. Now." Mycat's gruff voice snaps at us from his bed in the corner.

"Good night world." I type as I reach for the switch…


	6. The Case of the Beautiful Spy Part 1

**Long story Alert! Watsoncat belongs to thecapitansideways, not me, not John, nor anyone who thinks they have a claim to him; even you, dear reader. You can visit him on tumbler, or on Deviantart. Ultimately everything belongs to BBC's super show Sherlock.**

* * *

I'm back at home now. I don't know why I thought that I could get away without a few days of panic and fighting; I've got lots to tell.

I'm typing on John's computer again and we're back at Baker Street. We spent about five days at Mycat's house while John and Sherlock were apparently away on some kind of case. I wish I could show you John's face when Mycroft (Sherlock's brother, apparently) put us both in the box that we came in (without sealing it thankfully) and handed us to John. I thought he was going to melt away in horror. He stuttered an apology for Mycroft, who finally smiled before turning on his heel and leaving. I talked with Sher-cat and we've both agreed to ignore Sherlock for a while. I'm going to bite him if he tries to pet me!

But here's the catnip: while we were at Mycat's house we met this cat, and she gave us a clue to the mystery of who the 'black cat' was and provided Sher-cat with more evidence of a 'master thief'.

Let me try and tell the story, I don't think you'll understand it as well if I just ramble.

I wrote everything that happened on the first day in The Adventure of the Sudden Brother, but on the second day Mycat pulled me aside while Sher-cat was staring out the window.

Mycat is a big cat, made to look much bigger by the way his fur plumes away from himself. He has a lion's mane of fur around his neck and when he relaxes his head looks like it is nestled into his fur. It makes him look really noble and in control.

Right now he was making me feel a bit like a kitten because he was looking down on me regally.

"I would like to ignore the pomp and circumstance for a moment and enlist your help, if you would be so kind?" he asked very seriously. I would have probably taken him more seriously if I knew what pomp and circumstance was. I kind of know what pomp is, but circumstance? I don't think he is using that word quite right.

"Sure, I'll help with whatever you need." I said eager to assist the cat who was acting as our host.

"When you return to Baker Street I would be grateful if you would periodically update me on Sherlock's doings. I'll supply the informant, you will merely have to meet her every so often outside your flat. Does that sound congenial?"

I frowned. And not just because I didn't know what congenial was.

"Sherlock the human or Sherlock the cat?" I asked, dreading the answer.

Mycat looked down at me wearily with his noble eyes and their forever distant gaze. He sighed tremendously and for a moment I felt that I had let him down. He has that weird power over me, that even though I didn't think I did anything wrong and even though I shouldn't really care I felt bad nonetheless.

"Sherlock my brother. I want you to talk to a messenger of mine and tell me, essentially, what he is doing, or how he is doing."

"I can't." I complained.

"Can't?" He asked, his distant gaze suddenly felt a lot closer and his eyes took on a steely glint.

"I know you're his brother and all…" I started lamely, feeling like I was doomed no matter what I chose.

"But it would just feel wrong… I mean, telling on him. It's none of my business what he does… I don't even know half of the time. But I think it would be too much like… betrayal." Before I could finish Mycat had walked away. He spent the whole rest of the day ignoring me. I felt pretty horrible, but the alternative was unthinkable.

I couldn't just tell every cat what Sher-cat was doing, it was his business and I had seen too much of his business to risk divulging secrets, even to his brother. At least, not without his permission.

I felt like I could trust Mycat, but Sher-cat obviously didn't. They probably didn't say two words to each other the whole day, which I thought was odd.

I spent the day like Sher-cat, staring out the window watching the city. It got a bit boring after about an hour so I tried to chat with him about Mycat. I might as well have tried to spark a debate about complex physics for all the good it did me.

"Did you and your brother have a spat or something?" I asked.

"No." He said.

"Why don't you seem to like each other?" I pressed on.

"We like each other fine." He said in the same uncaring tone as something flickered outside, seizing his attention entirely.

"You don't act like it." I said.

"What do you want?" He turned to me suddenly furious. "Do you want me to crawl up to him, head bowed, all simpering and sniveling: 'Oh brother dearest, my heart aches when we don't speak.'" He laughed curtly and without mirth. It was a dry, angry sound and it cut me down.

I left the window and tried to entertain myself as best I could with the rest of the house. I went exploring, which didn't take long since Mycat showed me around before and most of the rooms were locked anyway. Mycat had no toys, and there was nothing interesting in the house. I was so bored I resorted to digging small holes in the litter box and making mounds that I would flatten with my paw. Boredom is a terrible thing, I have no idea how Sher-cat copes.

That was basically all of day two, but the most interesting thing happened that night.

I was not sleepy since I hadn't done anything all day and I tossed and turned on the platform I had found for myself on Mycat's scratching castle. Finally I just sat up and decided to eat something to try and calm my nerves. I snuck into the kitchen, trying to be as quiet as possible, lest I wake Sher-cat and Mycat but to my surprise they were already awake and in the kitchen. There was one window in the spotless white kitchen and through this high, small window the light from the half-moon poured in casting the two brothers in a bluish glow that reflected off of the tiles as sparkling opalescence like a rainbow.

I ducked behind the wall and held my breath automatically. I didn't want to disturb them, especially since they seemed so serious. They sat perfectly motionless in the kitchen staring at each other in a rigid, silent confrontation that was only interrupted by the hum of the refrigerator.

"What is this all about?" Sher-cat said in a low tone that was barely discernable from a growl.

Mycat looked at Sher-cat steadily, a sober, expressionless face hiding a slight crackling of his voice that was the only inkling of any emotion in the pair whatsoever. I almost missed it myself, or perhaps I was imagining it.

"Your name is being passed around in the underground and I have finally caught wind of it. Whatever you are up to now, you're in over your head."

"I hadn't realized I was in anything." Sher-cat said lazily. He was rewarded with a stern glare from Mycat, which to be honest was merely a hardening of his features.

"I'm serious. You don't realize how close you came to disaster on Thursday."

"How close?"

"Right outside your house."

Sher-cat's ears rotated, and for an instant I thought he'd heard me gasp in surprise. Who was right outside of our house? What kind of disaster? I listened as intently as I could but suddenly they began whispering.

"They would have attacked anything that entered or left your flat, we interrogated them as best we could, but someone staged a perpetual jailbreak and most of them escaped; you're in over your head."

"What did they say?" he said in a raspy voice.

"Nothing. Only 'Get Sherlock.' You should be placed under protection, at least until we can find these cats."

"Why didn't you contact me sooner?"

"I sent a messenger, but she went missing en route. I haven't seen her since, and I'll bet that they're still watching the flat."

"The Yard?"

"Knows nothing. As usual."

"Brilliant…" he lingered over the word that came as such a shock to Mycat and me.

"No, not brilliant. I know what you're thinking and the answer is no."

"I finally have a chance to trace this thing to the root and source!" he exclaimed excitedly.

"You're not involved, and you're not investigating." Mycat said with a hint of finality, but Sher-cat ignored him and began to pace the kitchen. I had known him long enough to realize Mycat was outmatched and now that Sher-cat thought he had another lead he would probably pursue it to all ends.

"They probably think I know something I don't, which means I'm on the right track, but what if…"

"Stop right there, you're not investigating and even if you are, you're not doing it alone." Mycat said, stepping in front of Sher-cat and arresting his pacing.

"Of course not." He said. "I have…"

"And what is he worth to you dead?" Mycat interrupted with a booming voice that seemed all the more powerful in the silent house.

"He seems like a nice cat, and a good friend. I'll give you that much Sherlock. He's a bit daft, but loyal to a fault." Mycat said and I had the distinct impression that the conversation had become centered on me.

"There were nine Sherlock. Nine. They would have ripped any lone cat to pieces in seconds. You're putting your friend in danger as well as yourself." Sher-cat stopped for a moment.

There was several seconds of silence while Mycat's words sunk in. I couldn't see Sher-cat's expression at all.

Suddenly he turned towards where I was hiding and I had to duck behind the wall.

"I'm tired." He said. "Good night."

"Think about it Sherlock."

I stopped breathing as he walked by me, hoping that for a moment I could become a rock or something and he wouldn't notice me, but I didn't have to worry. He didn't see me, even though he passed close enough for me to have reached out and touched him.

He was smiling. He was grinning the same way he always grins when he finds the clue he's looking for. I became a little bit afraid for my safety when I realized that Mycat's preaching on my behalf fell on deaf ears. He might as well have omitted concern about me for all Sher-cat heard.

I waited until Mycat returned to his cat bed, then I waited a few minutes more until I thought he was asleep before I snuck back to my cat-perch and tried fitfully to achieve any unconscious state. I had given up the hopes of genuine sleep.

There was something or someone after Sher-cat, ready to rip him to pieces. A great malignant force that hid just beyond what we could see, ready to pounce and kill us. If that isn't fodder for nightmares I don't know what is.

I spent a few hours running over their conversation again and again until I was sick of hearing their voices in my head. I decided that nothing really had changed, and that no matter what happened I would try and help Sher-cat. I would do all that I could do and that was the most anyone could ask of me. Even if I died or was ripped to pieces I could say 'Well, I did all I could do.'

When I made that decision the sun had (hatefully) begun to rise and I had to shield my eyes in order to try and sleep. I was weary and somewhat mad at myself for not sleeping at night, but proud that I had settled the matter for myself.

I must have fallen asleep right then because the next thing I remember was waking up while plummeting off of my perch head-first and opening my eyes to see the floor coming to meet me.

Needless to say I landed on my face and it was Sher-cat's fault. He sat on the perch above me (where I had been just seconds before) with a slightly frenzied look.

"Open the door for me." He demanded.

"Why don't you just ask next time?" I growled at him. "I'm pretty tired of hurting my face."

"I actually tried, but I couldn't wake you up. I thought you were in a coma, so I tried to wake you up like I saw in a movie once." He explained.

"Excuses, excuses…you watch movies?" I muttered half to myself.

"Only sometimes." He answered. "Open… the door!"

He hopped around impatiently and I took special efforts to walk slowly towards the door and take my time preparing to jump. It was funny at the time; I thought he was going to explode. He stood almost motionless except for a slight vibration which revealed his extreme irritation.

I jumped up to the door knob and hooked my paw around the smooth metal, but to my surprise it didn't budge. Not even a little bit. I hung onto the knob for a moment feeling shocked before I dropped down and tried to regain my confidence.

I rationalized "Maybe the knob turns the other way." And I jumped up again.

The knob turned a fraction of an inch before getting jammed. It made a little clicking noise as I jiggled it, but otherwise it was immobile.

I fell to the floor, feeling Sher-cat's eyes pressing into the back of my head. I stared at the knob in disbelief.

"It's stuck." I said finally.

"What are you doing wrong?" Sher-cat demanded.

"Nothing! It won't turn!" I replied, just as mystified as he was.

He glared at me and I watched as he became angrier and angrier. I thought he was going to explode (for a totally different reason). All of a sudden with a jerky motion he turned tail and barked "MYCAT!"

Mycat was still sleeping in his cat bed when Sher-cat bounded into the room shouting at him.

"Mycat! Your door! What's wrong with it! Tell me!" he demanded, speaking in short bursts between angry gasps.

Mycat's ears rotated slightly, so I knew he was awake but he didn't respond. Sher-cat shouted at him from about a foot away.

"You'd better tell me or so help me—"

"It's probably locked." Mycat replied tucking his head under his paws trying to block out Sher-cat's complaints.

"Locked! LOCKED! What do you mean locked! Locked; well that's just great! Did you plan this? God! Locked!"

He paced angrily in a small circle as he varied between muttering to himself and shouting at us while Mycat worked to roll himself out of his bed. I had withdrawn to a corner where I sat watching Sher-cat have a tantrum, feeling disappointed. Opening doors was my only special skill, I felt horrible that I couldn't help Sher-cat now.

Sher-cat paid no attention to either of us as Mycat steadied himself on his short legs and yawned tremendously. His eyes followed Sher-cat's fevered pacing lazily.

I probably should have been focused on what Sher-cat was saying at the time, but he wasn't making sense and speaking so fast I really couldn't catch everything. Plus Mycat had a masterful presence that seemed to demand attention naturally, and he was acting a bit strange.

I thought Sher-cat's tantrum would last into the afternoon when he finally decided to sit and sulk at us, but Mycat brought it to an abrupt end by stepping in front of Sher-cat's path and licking him in the face.

Sher-cat stood perfectly still for a second, overcome with shock, his hair bristling. Then he recoiled in horror, falling to the floor and rolling on his back groaning.

"Urgh! What the heck! Why did you—"

"You're filthy. When was the last time you groomed yourself? I can't let you walk around my human's house all grungy and gross." He said stepping forward and attempting to lick his face again.

Sher-cat darted towards the cat-castle and in a flash he leapt from platform to uneven platform until he had scaled to the tallest platform at the very top. He peered over at us from his temporary sanctuary miles up in the sky, and then his face disappeared.

Mycat turned to me and I noticed he wasn't trying to ignore me anymore. He smiled briefly and said "I can't stand his little tantrums. It's best to nip them in the bud whilst they're still fresh."

"You seem to be the master at that." I praised him. He said nothing in response but returned to his cat bed.

Sher-cat spent the day either in his high tower, hiding from Mycat's cleansing tongue or trying to find a way out of the house. He enlisted my help, but he refused to tell me why he wanted out so bad. We spent the day searching high and low, but I couldn't find any way out.

Sher-cat probably didn't say more than four words to me through the whole third day and I really began missing John. I missed the petting and the talking mostly. I was starting to feel lonely and there was nothing Sher-cat or Mycat could do about it. Or would do about it. I'm pretty sure they didn't notice.

When the sun went down again I was thoroughly exhausted, but Sher-cat was still searching, despite his brother's insistence that there was no way out. When I accidentally fell asleep he was still searching.

I put my head on my paws for one minute and the next thing I knew the morning sun was pouring in through the window and the annoying chirping of small birds sounded like car alarms against my head.

I yawned and stretched and rolled around a bit before realizing I was in the middle of helping Sher-cat. I looked around, wondering briefly if he'd already found a way to escape when I heard the unmistakable sounds of slurping against cat fur.

Actually, it's probably only unmistakable for a cat. If you have to groom yourself every day you kind of get use to the sound. There really is nothing else like it.

I followed the noises to the second cat bed (I told you Mycat had two, didn't I?) which was located in a back hallway and I spied on an…interesting sight.

Sher-cat was fast asleep, curled up into a small, comfortable crouch with his head resting on the soft rim of the cat bed, which was amazing in itself. He seldom ever slept and I couldn't quite remember having ever seen him sleep. He usually found a good place to hide, or he slept while I slept for short bursts of time. He could go for days without sleep, which is weird for a cat, but normal for him, so it was extra weird to see him sleeping at all.

Also: Mycat was standing over him licking away at his back in a diligent, but fixated way. It seems as though he was determined to clean him after all and he wasn't just joking.

Sher-cat was, apparently, a heavy sleeper but he murmured slightly as Mycat cleaned his back and moved on to his neck. He was waking up.

I laughed as I watched his face screw up in distress as he was gently nudged awake by his brother's tongue; chances are that I'll never ever have the chance to see anything like that again. Let's keep our paws crossed that Sher-cat doesn't read this ever, okay?

All of a sudden, his eyes flew open and with a terrible gasp he shot out of the cat bed and in a flash of blue-black fur he contorted himself into a standing position and raced back to the cat-castle, yowling angrily over his shoulder, his fur defensively bristled. He ignored the platforms for the most part and just shimmied up the pole to the top tier where he safely shouted insults at Mycat for his treachery.

I ducked behind a wall and laughed until my tummy hurt: So started the fourth day.

There was almost nothing interesting to say about that day except that Mycat treated me to more canned cat food; I think I have a new obsession! Sher-cat stayed on top of the cat castle most of the day, never saying a single word. That is usually a sign that he's bored, but it was odd, because he'd usually sit at the window and attempt to interest himself in whatever is going on outside. I wondered if he was asleep, but otherwise thought nothing of it.

But that night changed everything.


	7. The Case of the Beautiful Spy Part 2

**Meow~ Watsoncat and company belongs to Thecaptainsideways. Leave them both questions on tumbler ! (But not the same questions)**

* * *

I was woken up by a rattling noise at the window where Sher-cat had been sitting and a chilly breeze circulating through the room. I opened one eye and peeked into the darkness, praying that it was only Mycat's human.

No such luck: the window was open and Sher-cat was missing. I deduced that he had discovered how to open windows and had finally earned his escape. I lay down to continue sleeping, but Mycat's voice billowed up out of my deep thoughts, completely shattering any dream-like calm I had left in me.

"Nine. There were nine." It whispered a threat that clutched at my stomach like an icy hand. Sighing I picked myself up out of bed and stretched. I had to follow him and make sure he was alright, even if there was nothing wrong. The last time I followed him I saved his life. I was a cautious cat at heart.

I silently snuck up to the window sill, which was several feet off the ground and with a tremendous effort I grabbed onto the ledge with my front paws and kicked hard with my back paws, just barely managing to pull myself up.

I jumped down from the window sill behind a small assembly of trash cans, and thank goodness I did! I went to step into the streetlight when I saw Sher-cat bathed in the harsh orange glow. I ducked behind a trash can just in time, for he turned around and cast a piercing glance into the dark shadows, sensing me but not seeing me.

He might have investigated, and I might have been caught had he not been distracted at that same moment by the pretty purring of another kitty.

"I thought you were going to keep me waiting for a few more days." Another black kitty stepped into the circle of light cast by the streetlight.

"The door was locked." He said calmly, not turning and facing the female kitty that was meandering at his back.

"Sure it was." She said flashing a brief, charming smile at the back of his head.

I was shocked. Sher-cat knew a GIRL! And what's more he was IGNORING a girl! That was shocking!

I was in for an even bigger surprise. Sher-cat turned to face the kitty, still sitting calmly, if not stiffly. His face betrayed absolutely nothing of what he could be feeling. He looked like a stone statue of a cat.

In comparison the other cat was like velvet, her entire body lithe and crouching as she rubbed up against my friend.

I had the sensation that I was intruding on something deeply private that Sher-cat would not want me to know about, but it was too late to try and jump through the window and I was too late to confront him and tell him I was here, so I watched with apprehension as they scented each other.

I explained scenting once before; I'll do it again briefly: Scenting is when a cat rubs up against something activating scent glands in their face that leaves their mark on whatever they rubbed against. It's a way of saying "I've been here, this is mine." And it feels really pleasurable to a cat.

That is what Sher-cat and the other black kitty were doing. The black kitty approached my friend slowly and purposefully, her eyes locked onto his face and wavering slightly with her every movement, like a dancing snake. She nudged Sher-cat's cheek with her forehead and caressed his face down to his neck, pushing against him and purring slightly. Her lips parted in gentle ecstasy revealing spotless white teeth. Sher-cat for the most part stayed immobile, but surprised me by nudging back slightly, brushing against her body as it came to pass. It might have been a reflex, but it incited more purring from the she-kitty. For that moment they were the only two cats in the world cast within the ring of harsh light, pressing against each other with the darkness closing in on every side. Even I forgot myself; I was so lost in their moment

I couldn't see Sher-cat's face, so I had no idea what was going on until he stood up and took a step back, ending that tender moment with stark, shattering burst of reality.

"You sent me to be killed." He said in a grating voice. The kitty purred on, undeterred and almost unhindered. She stepped forward to continue scenting Sher-cat, but something in his gaze stopped her short. I kind of wish I could have seen his face then.

"Do you blame me?" she asked in a seducing, mocking tone that was both annoying, and somehow very beautiful.

"Not if you make amends now. Who was he working for?" Sher-cat demanded.

The kitty sat down, smiling eerily as the street light played over her soft features. Once I got over my initial surprise I really got a good glimpse of her: her ears were rounded and smooth like perfect wedges and her fur was extremely thick and fine. It framed her face perfectly.

"Tell me." he said angrily. "Where is he, who was he working for?"

"I think I like you." She said in a girlish soprano "So I think I'll help you."

"Help me by giving me what I want." He said.

"Never." She said.

For several seconds there was nothing passed between them except disbelief and silence. Finally the girl-kitty broke the silence with laughter.

"You are a smart cat, but you are not a wise cat." she said. "I'll repay my deceit with a piece of advice."

She stepped up close to Sher-cat and suddenly her voice dropped into a low murmur, barely discernable from the distant roar of cars in the city. I strained my ears to listen, and I think this is what she said:

"Your name has been passed along in whispered voices on the shadows of the underground. Ripples are beginning to form on the surface of the pond. A wave will spell ruin for you. Someone has taken interest in you that is preparing to start a war, and here you are as oblivious as the infant bird in its nest."

Every so often she would glance from Sher-cat's feet to his face and when she did her eyes flashed like lightning, reflecting the glow of the half-moon that peeked over the building.

"That's all very well and poetic." He said angrily. "But WHO?"

"I don't know a name." she said.

"Then give me a description or a location." Sher-cat parried.

She smiled again, her pause was meant to be taken as reluctance to answer.

"You are cute. I sincerely hope that they do not burn you to death as well."

Sher-cat grimaced as he turned to face the kitty that had begun circling him like a predator ensnaring her prey.

"No thanks to you." He said. "If I relied on you I really might be dead. Coincidentally, why did you try to have me killed? I doubt you had much to do with the stray's murder; unless that pretty smile hides filthy teeth."

She cocked her head sweetly, "Ghost should have known better than to blatantly disobey. He knew what happens to failures and traitors."

I swallowed an exclamation of surprise. Ghost? This kitty had a connection to the murder of Ghost? Suddenly their dialogue made sense to me and I felt the thin ripple of rage float up from the pit of my stomach that I could barely suppress. SHE was the one who led Sher-cat back to the humans that had almost killed him with fireworks. Why then did he let her rub up against him? Was there something I was missing?

"And what about you, Adler?" Sher-cat asked.

Adler tossed her head defiantly. "Chatting is not treason, not yet; though you seem insistent on crossing that border. Anyhow, I can take care of myself. Thanks."

Sher-cat nodded, but still seemed displeased.

"You still haven't showed me that restaurant yet." She said almost pleadingly. Sher-cat silently ignored her.

"I know a great place myself." She said, her eyes flickering with mischief. "It's at the intersection of Wonderland Road at Oxford Street. You can find anything there."

Sher-cat looked at her for a minute. The emphasis she put on 'anything' made it seem like it had real significance. Could it be that she was telling him where to look for clues? It looked like he didn't want to rely on her and he didn't seem to trust her, but in the end it seems his curiosity got the better of him. He started down the street, checking over his shoulder before vanishing around the corner

She turned and ran in the opposite direction and quite suddenly I found myself alone.

Alone and a little bit confused. Who was Adlercat? How did Sher-cat know her? Why did Sher-cat trust her after she had misled him before? Where was Sher-cat going now? Should I follow him?

I waited in the dark for a few minutes, uncertain of what I should do next. When I finally decided to follow Sher- cat I stood up, only to duck back a moment later with my heart in my throat swallowing a cry of fear.

Adlercat was back.

She flicked her fluffy tail happily, staring at the empty road that Sher-cat had disappeared on.

"Try not to fall too far down the rabbit hole and soil your nice fur, Sher-darling." She said in her mocking tone.

I decided to reveal myself to her, but instinct took over when she jumped onto the trashcans above my head and made a tremendous clattering sound. I hid in the shadows and watched silently as she sprang lithely into the house from the open window.

Panic began to set in at about this point. She was in the house for goodness sake! I also jumped onto the trashcans and through the window, determined to figure out who she was and what she was up to.

It was a long fall into the dark room, and for a moment I was blinded from the afterglow of the street lights but I blinked away the smears of green light in my vision and saw a shadow racing into the hallway.

I followed silently, debating whether or not to wake Mycat and his human. If I did raise an alarm, Adler might freak out and want to fight me, and if she did that it was unlikely I could find out anything about her.

Also, I really wanted to avoid fighting a girl. If I was stronger than her, then I beat up a girl and would feel really bad; but if I was beat up by her, then I was beat up by a girl and would feel really weak. It's a no win situation for a chivalrous cat like me.

I stalked her silently through the hallway, dogging her every move from a safe distance away. She would sometimes glance around, but never behind herself, so I thought I was safe, until she sat down in the middle of the hallway and called back to me: "I know you're there, so you might as well stop pretending you're sneaky."

I was a flabbergasted and frankly a little bit frightened. I thought that I had been perfectly silent in following her, utilizing every skill I had acquired as a stray and she saw right through me! She was clearly extremely talented.

I reluctantly stepped forward until I was only a few feet away from Adlercat.

"Who are you, what are you doing here?" I barked quietly "If you don't tell me, I'll wake up everyone."

"Oh, so you're loud are you?" she said, laughing quietly.

"Who are you?" I repeated, not at all understanding what was so funny to her. (Dear readers, I still don't. Help? Love Watsoncat.)

"Let me guess, you would have to be the infamous Dr. Watsoncat, Sherlock's fluffy side-kick." She said, still laughing under her breath at me.

"I'm not a side-kick. Who the heck are you?" I demanded, feeling increasingly irritated by her breathy giggling.

"I'm Adler, and I suddenly understand all of Sherlock's reluctance."

"Wait…what?" I exclaimed.

"I didn't peg him for it at all, but you? There's no mistaking it." She said haughtily.

"Lady, I don't know what you're talking about!" I exclaimed angrily. "What do you think you're doing here anyway? This isn't your house!"

"It's not yours either." She said, smiling sweetly again. Her laughter faded away instantly.

"I have permission to be here!" I growled. "You don't."

"Sherlock gave me permission." She said.

I wasn't about to fall for THAT. I shook my head "You're lying; Sher-cat would never do something like that."

"Woo." She stated unenthusiastically. "You know each other so well; defend your mate doctor, defend him!"

"What! Mate? I'm not gay!" I cried in horror.

"Right." She said.

"I'm not!"

"Sure."

"You're not allowed to be in here, get out now!" I said.

Adlercat sat perfectly still, not obeying me in the least little way, but not moving to challenge me either. I stood ready for action, but tense seconds passed without any noise. I was so primed for action that the delay frayed my nerves a little bit. I was extremely anxious.

"I said get out!" I whispered again.

"Or what?" she countered.

"I'll yowl and wake up the human." I threatened.

To my surprise she didn't move, but something in her eyes looked dangerous. I don't mean dangerous like, angry. I mean she looked almost happy, like a snake grabbing a mouse. I think at that moment I felt exactly like a mouse.

"If you were going to wake up the human, you would have done it by now." She said. "So either there is no human, though I know for a fact that there is, or there is something you want from me before I go. Am I right?"

In short, yes. She was very right. I had a lot of questions lined up for her, each more pressing than the last: Why did Ghost the stray die? Who ordered it? Who was the mysterious black cat that kept appearing in our investigations? How did she know Sher-cat? What was being planned for us in the future?

But all I asked was: "What did you come here for?"

The humor in her eyes vanished and she instead bristled against my question. I crouched down instinctively, just in case she decided to leap at me but she composed herself just as suddenly as she had lost control.

"I came here…to say hi." she said finally.

I stared at her, somewhat dumbstruck. She was lying; I knew that much for sure.

"Hi." I said to her, wondering what, if anything she could possibly be planning.

"Hi." She said avoiding my eyes.

"Okay. Now leave." I said.

"Alright, I will."

This conversation was not going at all like I was expecting. I had been expecting fire, and explosions and hair-pulling and teeth, but Adlercat was being…compliant.

"…via the window…" She added in a whisper walking past me to leave. I stood totally still watching her sauntering towards the room with the scratching-castle when all of a sudden she leapt up to one of the locked doors and clung to the door knob, much like I do when I'm trying to open it.

"…in this room!" she added to her fractured sentence.

"Hey, get down from there!" I shouted angrily "You can't go in there!"

To my amazement, she opened the locked door after apparently pawing the knob for a minute. There was a solid click and the door just swung open, like magic.

She leapt inside and I was right on her heels, trying to grab her ankles in my teeth and stop her from going where ever she was trying to go. If I could just hold her down for a moment I could shout out and the human would come and I could think of something from there.

We were in a room with a bed in it and pretty much nothing else. Adlercat jumped up on the bed and I followed after her swiftly. I tripped on the soft, unstable surface and landed on my face. I tried to pick myself up, but the bed was weird and I tripped again. I'm not clumsy, but the bed was really weird! It was like trying to stand on water!

Adlercat stood up right away with little difficulty while I fumbled around trying to stand on all fours without sinking into the bed.

Without any warning, Adlercat pulled up the sheet on the bed with a ferocious tug, and I knew what she was attempting almost a second before she succeeded. With a mighty bellow she tossed the sheet over my head, enfolding me into the ocean of white.

I kicked off the bed, hoping to free myself immediately, but the bed offered no leverage and just swallowed me a bit more instead.

I could feel the vibrations (or should I say waves) from Adlercat running around the bed and I rolled away, trying to distribute my weight and somehow learn to control the weird ground. I only managed to wrap myself up a bit more in the sheet.

After about thirty seconds Adlercat had wrapped me up tightly in the sheet, and my trying to roll free did the rest. I felt like a burrito (Separate but related matter: John had a burrito for dinner tonight and he gave me some. It was good!)

"You see Doctor, there is a reason I'm known as a dominatrix." She laughed patting my side through the layers of sheet as I angrily flopped around looking for a route to freedom.

"I don't care what religion you are," I shouted. My breath got caught in the sheet right in front of me and made the air around my face hot and steamy and I began to feel claustrophobic as I yanked my paws out of the folds of cloth. "What do you want?"

She laughed at me some more. I felt like she didn't take me seriously at all and it was discouraging.

"No offense, but it should not matter to you." She pushed me a little bit and I was having trouble figuring out where she was sitting. "You cannot stand in my way. If I was not on such a tight schedule I might play with you a bit more." She shoved me again.

Ice crawled into my stomach as I plunged off the corner of the bed onto the floor. I cried a bit, but the pain of slamming into the hard floor silenced any real complaints. My shoulder smarted from where it had smashed against the tile and I had been unable to protect myself. I also gasped as it had knocked a bit of the wind out of me.

"I could show you around and give you a bit of experience to give to Sherlock; but like I said, I'm busy."

I heard her giggling as the door closed with a snap, leaving me alone now that I was out of her way. Whatever she had wanted, it was elsewhere.

I decided right then and there that I hated Adlercat. I didn't know how she knew Sher-cat, but regardless I hated her.

But when she rolled me off the bed, the tightly wound sheets loosened and I started to stretch my way through the cocoon of linen. It felt like a long time, but before I knew it I crawled out from under the sheets and into the darkness of the empty room.

The only thing I had left to do was to open the door, which thankfully was left unlocked.

I staggered out into the hallway searching angrily for the mean cat. She was nowhere to be found, but I wasn't sure that meant she was gone. I listened closely to the silence, daring Adlercat to make a sound.

I heard a clattering coming from back towards the scratching-castle and I ran towards it with all my might. When I got there I found Sher-cat and Mycat huddled together and talking in hushed tones.

"Guys!" I said ignoring the sense that I should show more respect to the uptight cats "Adlercat is in the house!"

"I know. Shut up." Sher-cat said.

"I've already moved them. My human will never know the difference." Mycat said, ignoring my interruption and continuing with the conversation already in progress.

"Then we can ambush her while she's looking, great." Sher-cat nodded.

"Would you clue me in please?" I begged, sick and tired of feeling like the cat on the outside of the action.

Sher-cat waved his paw at me, as though trying to shoo my question away. "Later, later." He said and the matter was dismissed.

"Where?" he asked.

"Front hall, third door on the right."

"Watsoncat, you're going to be our back up. Don't let the cat out of the room. We might have a bit of a fight on our hands."

"Okay." I nodded.

Wondering why I didn't tell them about what Adlercat did to me? I'm sitting here wondering why I told you. I think I might stop typing and just go die of embarrassment. God forbid Sher-cat ever finds out.

_Sherlock edit: "Do you think you're the only cat that can read?"_

The three of us exchanged few words as we prepared for the ambush. Basically the whole of our plan was "Don't let her out of the room and if she tries to leave stop her." Which didn't sound impressive, but from what I had seen of Adlercat, could easily have gone much worse that it did.

We found that she had foolishly left the door open and from inside we could hear mumbling and the shuffling of papers.

Sher-cat threw open the door and we saw Adlercat up on top of a writing desk, digging like a dog through countless papers, apparently not finding the one she wanted.

"Looking for something?" Sher-cat asked.

She turned and hissed at him and I braced myself for a fight even though Mycat and Sher-cat barely moved.

"You are an incorrigible boy, you should be ashamed." She spat at him.

"Funny statement coming from a thief." He retorted calmly.

She moaned angrily, her eyes darted all over the room searching for a point of exit, but there was none. The only way out was to plow through us.

"It was never here, was it?" She asked in a low, hesitant voice which trembled with emotion.

"No." Sher-cat said.

"You're a fool." She said.

"No." he repeated.

"You've damned me." she said.

"No." he said for the third and final time. "I have something for you, call it a carrot-and-stick proposition. Tell me everything you know, and I do mean everything and I'll give you something to take back to your boss."

"Sherlock." Mycat said with a hint of alarm.

"I have a pretty good idea of the limits to your knowledge, so just start talking and we'll see if you can fill in the blanks."

She paused, her face full of contemplation. "I'll be killed. If word spreads, then they'll know it was me…"

"If you don't then you'll be taken to the pound, and chance will determine your future." He countered.

She seemed to be rapidly considering her options. Finally she laughed, but it was nothing like her happy, mirthful laughter from before. It was a shallow, sad sound.

"I see. You've actually out done me… I know when to give in quietly…" she said, her eyes zipping from one cat to the next.

Finally her eyes rested on Sher-cat who was standing at the far right of the line we made and her expression became poisonous in a flash.

"Never!" She bellowed leaping at him suddenly and knocking him to the ground. Sher-cat might have been expecting it, for as soon as she was on top of him, his ears pulled away from her defensively and he used the force of her attack to kick her onto the wall in the hallway behind him. It was so smooth that for a moment I thought that Adlercat had jumped and just kept flying.

In the next second Sher-cat had Adlercat pinned against the wall and I was right behind him, pushing her onto the floor where she couldn't escape. She gasped and made several exclamations in some kind of weird cat-dialect that I didn't recognize, but ultimately we had her cornered.

"I curse the day you ever wandered onto my street you foolish house cat!" She spat at Sher-cat.

"Tell me!" Sher-cat insisted holding down her rolling shoulders.

"Moriarty, that's what he told us to call him!" she groaned through gritted teeth, foaming slightly in anguish. "He's a black cat, and he's someone's pet. I swear that's all I know."

"Moriarty…" Sher-cat whispered.

"He's someone's cat and he has a forever supply of food and nip. He contracts strays to work for him in return for provisions and favors. I swear that's everything!" she gasped.

Sher-cat nodded to me and I reluctantly stood up, letting Adlercat go. She angrily righted herself glancing from me, to him, to Mycat and back.

"I hope you're happy! You've spelled my ruin!"

"One good turn deserves another." Sher-cat said, almost lazily.

"You've killed me you fool!" she spat. "No one escapes from the grips of him! I can run, but his grip is far reaching! I'm damned!"

"Fine by me." he said.

She screeched and ran down the hallway. Sher-cat didn't move.

"Shouldn't we go after her?" I asked him.

"Why?" he said. "She's just going to escape out the window. It's the only logical choice. Besides, we have the information we wanted." He turned away from me and I couldn't read his expression. I would like to think it was something wistful, but knowing Sher-cat it he was probably smiling at the new clues he'd received.

I finally got some answers about Adlercat. Sher-cat wouldn't tell me where he met her, but he did say that she told him that she worked for Ghost's employer. He alluded to a little adventure that they had together while he was searching for clues, but he refuses to give me specifics. Apparently she was looking for something that Mycat's human had that she could give to her boss. I felt like I knew more about her at the time, and was satisfied; but now that I'm typing this up I see that I haven't really learned anything at all. I wish I was less gullible.

Anyway, Sher-cat acted a bit odd that day and he sat around mysteriously. I have a feeling that Adlercat meant more to him than he would admit, but I don't know how to confront him with that without him sitting on me. He's a little bit bossy.

Mycat tried to groom him again, he acted enigmatic whenever I asked him about Adlercat and what would become of her, and I had some more wet food. That was our last day in Mycat's house. That night we were picked up and tossed into the box we arrived in and Mycat's human drove us back to Baker Street.

It's taken me a long time to type this. Two days actually and we've now been home for a while. I've had to stop periodically because Sherlock (The human) has been using John's laptop off and on. I still don't want him to know I can write, just because.

Every day since we've gotten back Sher-cat and I have been scouring the streets searching for any sign or clue of this Moriarty cat. I have to keep asking Sher-cat how to spell 'Moriarty'. I wish his name was something simple like Bob, or Jim, or Keith.

We haven't found anything yet, but we've only been at it for two days. That's not a whole lot of time. If Sher-cat is onto something he hasn't shared it with me.

I spent a long time when we got back just letting John stroke me. At first he was reluctant, but in no time at all I had him into the rhythm of petting me. Humans are fairly easy to train.

I'll keep the world updated with what we find on Moriartycat, but I'm not promising anything huge. Something smells fishy and I don't like it.

Also, we haven't seen any of the escaped cats Mycat told us about and no cat has been lingering around our house, so for now we're safe, but I can't shake the feeling that something is waiting out there. Maybe it's just my fear of an uncertain future, maybe it's my delicate inner sense of danger warning me of impending doom, either way I have a feeling that something important is coming up. Something or someone is coming for Sher-cat. I want to be there to help him when it arrives.

* * *

_Sherlock's edit: This is completely appalling! Have you been writing this drivel the whole time? It's no wonder no one reads these things! What about the analysis? How I work out problems? Honestly, I can't believe that all you gathered from our investigations was THIS._


	8. The Great Game Part 1

**Watson cat and company belong to Thecaptainsideways, everything ultimately belongs to BBC's superepic series Sherlock. The game is on! :)**

* * *

I'm tired.

I'm really really tired.

Every waking (and several sleeping) hours have been dedicated to tracking down or hunting up information on this Moriarty cat. It seems like Sher-cat is running me ragged. He's probably just as tired as I am, but he handles it much better. He's actually happier now that he's so busy looking for clues of this cat. I, on the other hand, am so tired I keep hitting the wrong keys. Typing is hard, sleeping is easy; ergo, I quit.

* * *

I'm still tired. That paragraph was all I could manage for yesterday. I'm secretly wondering if Sher-cat is just experimenting to see how long I would put up with sleep deprivation for him. If that is true, and he reads this I feel inclined to warn him: It's not long.

Sherlock (the human) knows that we (the cats) come and go as we please, but John (also a human) does not, so Sher-cat and I have to investigate only when John won't notice we're gone. Sadly that is most of the time; he's at work all day and he sleeps pretty much all night, so whenever John is gone, so are we.

Which is bad. I like to sleep when John does, but Sher-cat needs me to let him out of the apartment, and when he leaves I get worried, so I follow him. Do you see the dangerous cycle?

Sher-cat stays out all night. He has an unusual instinct that tells him when to head home almost exactly when John wakes up. We've actually beaten him by almost thirty seconds for the past three days. I think we're just really lucky cats.

We've gotten really hokey information on Moriarty thus far, (stuff like the color of his fur, and his favorite cat food.) and I'm not sure if we're looking in the right direction. It would be really funny to me if this Moriarty cat was just some random cat somewhere in the city without any clue that we're looking for him. I would die laughing if we found him and he acted totally clueless. I would need a camera to capture the look on Sher-cat's face for all posterity when he figures out that the tip Adlercat gave him was bologna.

Speaking of Adlercat, Sher-cat has been acting funny ever since he saw her last. I have this unshakable gut instinct that something was UP between them, but I can't prove anything. Every so often Sher-cat will ask for her while we're looking for Moriarty-clues. He says he's trying to trace back the chain of information, but I think he might be fibbing.

I'm almost positive.

Ninety nine-point-nine percent sure.

Probably.

I haven't seen her since. Sher-cat hasn't either I suppose. She said that she would be killed for giving us information on her boss, but I can't say I'm too broken up about her vanishing. I went online and searched for what a dominatrix was. I wasn't pleased with the results.

I read back to Sher-cat the part about Moriarty being a random cat and he's biting me. I'll type later.

* * *

I found my new favorite thing: cat toys!

John must have noticed that we never played with our old toys (which were ringing balls and brightly colored pillows. That stuff is for kittens!) so he went to the store and bought us some new ones!

There was a gray mouse…THAT SQUEAKS WHEN YOU HIT IT! I love that one! I bit it and kicked it and it made a bunch of delightful sounds! Don't get me wrong, I like mice just fine…but come on; I AM a cat after all. It squeaked! And it was so soft and firm! I batted it around for hours!

He also got this long plastic rod, with a bunch of green feathers and a bell on the end; that one was Sher-cat's favorite. I've never seen Sher-cat PLAY with anything before (unless you count rubbing up against the skull playing) so it really surprised me to see him attacking anything with such vigor! I've also never seen him loose his composure so much before. His pupils were nice and dilated with joy and he leapt with so much energy and enthusiasm! And he could jump so high! I never knew! He almost jumped as high as John's head! It was really amazing to see him spinning around in mid-air, pawing and biting at feathers that were always just outside his reach.

John played with Sher-cat and the feather wand forever. He was an expert at teasing Sher-cat with it, getting him riled up and then pulling the feathers out of the way just in the nick of time.

Sherlock the grouchy human sat in one corner of the flat throughout our whole romp, never saying anything until towards the end when we both began to get winded.

"It's a waste of money buying cat toys, they're just going to eat them and get bored." He said sulkily.

"But it's a lot of fun to watch for now, and they didn't cost all that much." John responded.

"It's the principle of the matter John! We can't just go fueling a never ending cycle of waste and disappointment!"

John rolled his eyes. "The cats are cooped up in the flat all day; it's healthy for then to get a little exercise every now and again. Not that you'd know the value of exercise."

"We are given a finite number of breaths on this earth, and I'm not going to waste mine running up and down a side walk." He snapped back. "Besides, they're not as 'cooped up' as you would think."

I gasped, scared that Sherlock would divulge our little secret and worry John, but John either didn't hear him, or didn't pursue the subject. Thank goodness for small miracles.

Unfortunately we had to go clue hunting that night, and I was exhausted. Sher-cat was also tired, but he seemed to radiate this weird, untapped energy that he dipped into when he was normally drained. I was a little bit jealous.

It's morning now and I'm still tired, but I'm determined to keep writing, no matter what. I still have a few hours before John needs to wake up, so I'm going to sleep with him for a while. He's warm and doesn't move around too much and his bed sheets always smell good.

* * *

Sherlock caught me typing the last entry. I don't know what to do. I don't know what he's going to do. I'm scared. I stopped typing, turned around and he was RIGHT THERE!

I closed the window and ran to John's room as fast as I could. I'm scared. What if he tries to keep me from writing? What if he tells John and they read it? With all of the dangerous things we do, do you think they'll try to lock the doors? Sher-cat says they won't do that because they need to keep the doors unlocked for clients, but I'm still scared.

What if Sherlock decides to dissect my brain? I need it!

* * *

Good morning. How are you? I'm fine.

I'm great!

I've met someone online!

I know what you all are thinking, online relationships never end well, but she seems like a really nice cat! She says her name is Lily! She's told me a bunch about herself and she says she has read my entries online. She's even left some notes on my tumbler account!

Maybe I'm deluding myself into thinking this kind of relationship can work, but I don't have a whole bunch of lady-friends. Sher-cat keeps me busy most of the time, and I don't have time to make normal friends, much less girl friends.

She seems nice, and she's sent me a picture of herself, so I can say with honesty that she looks nice; but in her I see more: I see the possibility of normal.

It might be a slight thing for most cats, most people's normal is wake up, eat, play, sleep and love but my new normal is wake up, eat, chase down bad guys, analyze crime scenes, break out of the flat, fight to stay alive, pretend I'm a normal cat and try to catch a few hours of sleep before something happens to me again.

Don't get me wrong; it's an exciting life full of adventure and intrigue, but I wish there was a little more romance, or down time for me. The pull is intense between safe, happy normal cat and ferocious, wild, former-stray crime fighter.

In the end I always end up following Sher-cat and ignoring my cat instinct to lie down and sleep. As they say in the streets: friends follow friends into traffic. Wherever Sher-cat goes, I'll dutifully follow (Even if it's only to keep him alive. What else are friends for?)

_*Sherlock edit: "Oh for goodness sake, you are not still writing this stuff are you? We've had four cases and followed up a dozen or more leads on Moriarty (Who, need I remind you, is certainly real as the trail points too), but if it doesn't end in a fight for your life, or a cat that's caught your eye it hasn't made your records! Utter balderdash! I have half a mind to take up the chronicling on my own; then we'll have a real show of force! And by the way: it's not my fault they don't like you."_

* * *

Help… I think.

I've been getting weird messages lately. Some of them seem innocent enough, and I'll always respond with a joke, but some of the messages really scare me.

It's always some anonymous person either on my tumbler; or on my deviant art accounts but lately I've gotten a few in my personal e-mail account that I set up just a few weeks ago. Here they are in order:

"Well written doctor. For a rank amateur. I think I will pick out that quote and use it as your epitaph."

"I know your secrets. I will have you meowing for mercy, if you can still breath."

_ "I see you, but you can't see me. I will come and I will get you. Be ready."_

"Are you prepared to take you're place in my great game? If not, too bad. I've told you once before to be ready. If not now, then it's too late."

And this is the most recent one from my new personal e-mail (I'm freaked out because no one should know my new personal email. I haven't used it yet!)

"You have shown your hand doctor; the end is near."

Gosh… When they're all lined up like this it looks really intimidating. You need to understand that these came over the course of several weeks, not all at once. I'm not even sure if they're all the same person, but I have the feeling they might be.

I've shown Sher-cat. He told me to go to sleep. That seems like a really good idea, though I'm sure I'm going to have nightmares. I almost miss the anon who told me he was going to take me to Hogwarts. He was annoying as hell, but at least I was sure he was joking… pretty sure.

Hogwarts seems better than…THAT!

* * *

Dr. John Watsoncat was typing up his most recent entry, the one just above this one when he was alerted to the sound of nails against the window pane. In a flash Sherlockcat Holmes was investigating.

I'm Sherlockcat Holmes, and I'm trying my paw at writing these infernal diary entries while Watsoncat recovers from his ordeal. He's implored me to use proper story-writing skills, which apparently involve starting from the very beginning of the narrative and not revealing information until it becomes apparent in the timeline of the story. I've reminded him that he himself has broken these rules before, but I will attempt to follow the rules, however anal for his satisfaction.

Though this would be a much shorter and ultimately more profitable venture if I focused solely on the logic and ignored the frivolous nature of popular literature.

A dark brown cat with splotches of tan fur and large green eyes had climbed up to our flat and asked to see Watsoncat.

I told her that he was unavailable and he jumped upon my window sill and attempted to push me off; I swear he can be impossible sometimes!

They had a short conversation where I gathered that the female called herself Lily, and that they had chatted briefly online before. It is in my nature to never be trusting of the fair gender and I was immediately skeptical.

When she asked leave of my partner just as we were attempting to disembark on an investigation I became incredibly suspicious.

"See reason." I implored him. "You hardly know the girl, and we have work that needs to be done."

But the girl batted her eyelashes and smiled in a charming, suggestive manner and my partner was reduced to a bumbling pheromone machine.

"Please Sher-cat. It's only one day." He told me jumping to the floor decidedly. "You can manage without me. I haven't been on a date in eons!"

"You haven't lived for eons." I reminded him. "And though I can manage alone I prefer to have an associate on which I can thoroughly rely."

He assured me that I could deal with myself for a little while and he went out to meet the female-kitty. There's not a suspicious bone in his body. She alluded to inviting him to her apartment and I was promptly abandoned.

I entertained myself for a while with small acts of personal hygiene, but in time these too became tediously boring and I decided to slip out and check to see if the Yard had any need of me, and if not then visit some of my stray-cat informants for follow up interviews about Moriarty.

I was just about to leave when the computer rang. This was odd, for I had never known it to do that before. I'm not terribly computer literate, but I managed to play with the mouse a bit until it stopped. A letter opened up on the screen and I managed to read what it said briefly before it disappeared:

It was a photo of a rough caricature of five cats scrawled in what looked to be orange crayon. I did not know any of the cats just on sight, but I had the feeling that these cats were supposed to be familiar to me.

The note itself said: "Five cats may die before the day is up. If I were you I'd see what the Yard was doing. 12:00."

The time was particularly ominous. It was almost ten thirty while I was reading the note. I had no doubt in my mind that the time on the note was the time a cat would die.

I wasted no more time reading, I went to leave via the door when I realized my trusted doorman had left on an earlier errand. I cursed my poor luck and settled for escaping through the window. I had taught myself that trick some time back, but I was loath to use it, for I could not close a window once I opened it and our flat was elevated high off the ground.

I carefully climbed down and happened upon Lestrade from the Yard who was coming to seek assistance in a case.

As requested from the note I questioned him about it. He explained that a cat's body had been recovered from the Thames in a bag. They suspected cruel humans again, but something seemed odd about the cat so he came to me.

The body had been found in a simple burlap sack just off of Tempus wharf, and it immediately became apparent that he had drown, but the nails had been torn off of the cat as he clawed at the bag, which is unusual in toss-and-drown missions from humans.

This he explained to me as we ran to the wharf. It took only thirty minutes running, but time was beginning to dwindle when I clued him in on my part in his investigations. He seemed skeptical and questioned me repeatedly about the nature of the note. I hadn't time to answer all of his questions as we arrived and shrugged of his last few quips at my nature. It was obvious he didn't entirely trust me, but what did I care? So long as the crimes were solved, I was satisfied and he would have to be too.

When we arrived on scene Danderson was thankfully nowhere to be found, though his little girlfriend Sylvia was making a mess of the area sniffing the wet sand and leaving footprints everywhere.

Mollycat had removed the body from the bag and updated me on the state of the body as I set to work on the area. The cat definitely drowned, but it must have spent quite sometime in the bag, for its claws were not only stuck in the course material, but had also rendered several holes in the sack. The fur on his paws still had conglobated orbs of dried blood, which meant that the blood had been dry enough and therefore old enough not to dissolve in water.

I recognized the cat as one of my favorite informants, a stray named Big Ben. I was disappointed in how he had met his end. He was a gentle creature and I had somewhat of an affinity for him.

The sack was tied with a rope, which I examined thoroughly. The rope was tied in such a way as imply that it was initially tied to something else. Instead of a cut, or a fray I found that the rope was black and charred, or in other words burnt.

The scenario I had formed was that the cat had been put in a bag and dangled over the river, and then the only cord keeping him from a watery grave had been burnt and then severed; plunging him into the river.

Just then I caught sight of Danderson creeping along the river's edge. He looked as though he was investigating, just like every other cat on scene, but I saw the small brown lizard he was chasing. His brain is full of lizards.

I decided to do a little experiment using him and the boats on the water. I saw a small boat and knew it to be two meters long just by sight recognition. I made a running tackle and shoved Danderson into the water and timed how long it took him to float past the boat on the current, which whisked him away as he yowled bitterly.

"Sherlockcat! What is the matter with you?" Sylvia cried at the back of my head, but I was too busy to listen.

"Molly, what was the time of death on this cat?" I asked.

"About three hours if I'm reading the rigor right." She stuttered.

I calculated the numbers in my head. If he had been dropped off at Towers Bridge, which I could see rising regally from where we were at the wharf, he would have been found earlier, so the only possible location that allowed the right time of death with the current rate of the current was London Bridge.

"I don't have time to explain." I told them, "But he was dropped off from London Bridge and we must get there before twelve o clock."

It was only about eleven fifteen at the time and I set off running for London Bridge with the entire division in tow, except for Molly who was left behind to finish her work on the body before humans arrived.

We met little interference, save a wet, cold Danderson who complained about being used for my experiment and we arrived at eleven thirty if I can still read shadows correctly.

London Bridge on Borough High Street is a plain stretch of concrete with ample walking space for humans and five lanes for traffic. I knew precisely what I was looking for, so it wasn't hard to find a rope tied to one of the granite blocks that ran along the length of the bridge.

When we approached the trapped cat, the unique device attached to the metal hand mounted to the column instantly grabbed my attention. It was, in all simplicity, a magnifying glass attached to a small arm which positioned it in just the right way so that when the sun was directly overhead the glass would bend and focus the light creating a beam of heat which would act as a hot knife, burning the rope and severing it. I leapt upon the colonnade, careful not to lose my footing and plummet into the water and sure enough, hanging below me was another burlap sack, just as the one Ben had been found in with clear lumps indicating a cat inside.

I hastily detached the magnifying glass from its arm, neutralizing the danger and tossed it into the river. Then the rest of the Yard helped me pull the cat to safety.


	9. The Great Game Part 2

**Watsoncat belongs to thecaptainsideways. Just so you know. Don't shoot the messanger. Lily the cat belongs to Lolitaxemeraldine, also not me.**

* * *

_Watsoncat edit: Sher-cat sucks at writing, doesn't he? I think he broke almost every rule I told him. Plus, I'm not traumatized or trying to get over any ordeal or whatever, I just don't feel like writing right now._

* * *

By the time we had heaved the bag to the safety of the concrete I heard distant chiming of church bells indicating that noon had arrived. We saved the cat just in the nick of time.

I was intrigued. The elaborate rigging was clearly the work of someone of high intellect with a flair for theatrics. Imagine a cat creating a time-delayed murdering device! I'd heard of such things often on television and among the human network, but this was by far the first one I had ever seen made by, and for, a cat.

My delight at the potential for a challenge was immediately overrun by my dismay at the contents of the sack, as the Yarders pulled the brown cloth away from a very distraught and disgruntled Adlercat.

"Morning Sherlock, I thought I heard your pretentious voice floating over the water." She said shooting a nasty glare my way.

I smiled politely. "Pardon the distraction; I can see you're a bit hung up."

"All ways with the quips. You'll outlive God trying to have the last word." She sneered.

"Funny, I've heard something similar before."

"Get a room you two." Danderson rudely interjected, returning my focus to the case at hand.

"Sherlock, who is she." Lestrade said, indulging in his habit of separating himself from victims in an attempt to de-personalize his work; and consequently ignoring her.

"She's only—" I began, but amongst women one finds it mostly impossible to finish one's own sentences.

"A friend." She hastily added.

"An old friend."

"A dear old friend." She was insistent on elbowing herself into my affairs.

"You don't have friends." Sylvia pointed out. "Much less two."

"Not in the same decade." Danderson retorted and they both laughed like idiots.

Ah, pardon my omission but I've really been trying to pace myself while writing this tale. It's so easy to run off on a tangent with my observations and detail some previous case instead of the case at hand that I find myself repeatedly admonishing myself for lapses in judgment concerning the content of this tale. Allow me to make one thing perfectly clear with respects to Miss Adlercat:

She was a stray, but she had not always been so. Her owners had perished in a terrible misfortune and left her in her own straights and to her own dealings. She had forged for herself a healthy practice as a spy, swiping photos, documents and other precious materials for a small fee. I had long known of some of her work, but had only recently been introduced to her.

At the moment she was wearing a sea-foam green ribbon around her neck, neatly tied into a bow. While it seemed fetching at first. I noticed that it was unusual attire for one about to be sent to her watery death.

"Don't get excited." I untied the ribbon and laid it out on the concrete, releasing another small note written in orange crayon. Now there were only four cats that stood in a neat row at the bottom of the paper.

"One down (It said)

I'd love to stay and chat,

I'd meet you at your flat,

But my train leaves at 1:03

As you can clearly see

The second unlucky cat

Might go splat

If you can't take care of that."

"What the hell?" Lestrade asked rereading the little note twice more in a glance.

"It's a poem." Danderson said.

"Brilliant, Danderson." I said sarcastically.

"Really?" His eyes lit up with hope.

"Brilliant impersonation of an idiot." I finished. "Where's the nearest train station?"

"King's cross." Sylvia cried. "It must be miles away; we'll never make it in time!"

I thought quickly and remembered spotting a bus stop at the end of the bridge. It was a definite hunch, but I cried "Follow me!" and ran back the way we came anyway.

To my surprise I found the bus, which was boarding two passengers carrying heavy trunks, at the stop just as we arrived. In a flash I ran through the legs of the passengers, who were completely oblivious to anything beneath their trunks and ducked beneath an empty seat. Lestrade, and to my horror Adlercat were right behind me.

I heard the doors slide shut with a sinister hiss and realized that Sylvia and Danderson weren't able to keep up with us. The journey ended for them there.

"You were supposed to stay behind!" I scolded Adlercat. "It's what victims do!"

"Something tells me you're not use to live victims." She said.

The bus roared to life and I felt the slight pressure which indicated that we were moving forward.

"What the hell is going on!" Lestrade exclaimed, his ears were folded back in terror and I realized that this was probably his first ride on a bus.

"Someone is playing a game with us, a brilliant game." I said, admittedly becoming excited.

"A game? With bodies?" he glared at me. "Spoken like a true sociopath."

"If the shoe fits." Adlercat smiled sardonically.

"Can we please focus?" I asked. "Adlercat, since you're here would you kindly submit to a brief interview."

"Are you going to use my words against me?" she mocked.

"Who put you in the bag?"

"Two strays. One with an underbite and teeth like tusks and another that was speckled like a leopard."

"Where were they?"

"Wonderland Road and Oxford Street. I wasn't being completely untruthful when I sent you there; we often have meetings at designated intersections. That one was mine."

"It's too far away. It must have taken hours to transport you."

"I was in a car or something for a while. I'm not so sure. I passed on the papers you gave me to them and they paid me in poisoned food; I was unconscious most of yesterday. The documents were forgeries, correct?" she suddenly became hostile in her manner.

"That's right." I responded blandly.

"Then I have you to thank for my little diversion, and you only have yourself to blame for my company."

"So what are we dealing with here?" Lestrade asked, trying his best to keep up.

"A cat criminal. A master cat criminal." Adlercat said beneath a whisper.

"Train leaves at one-oh-three. There is a train that pulls out of king's cross at precisely one-oh-three and beneath it, or perhaps in front of it, is another cat."

"If we don't hurry…" Lestrade said, a sudden revelation coming over his countenance.

"Splat." Adlercat finished dramatically.

The trip by bus took less than a half-hour even with the mid-afternoon traffic and various little stops along the way. The whole trip crouched under the bus seat was made in silence for the most part omitting the dozens of questions that Lestrade's eager mind could not wrap around.

We arrived outside the station at about twelve thirty-five according to the clock just outside the station. To the dismay of the bus driver we were the first ones out the door and looking around.

"This place is enormous." Lestrade said. "How are we going to find our cat?"

"Quickly." I told him racing for the entrance.

The inside is even larger than it looks from the outside. We split up into three separate search parties; Lestrade checked the first few platforms, Adlercat the next and I took what was left. I had barely begun searching when I heard Adlercat cry that she had found a cat.

I raced to platform nine where I found her easing her way over metal rails in the steep pit beneath the walkways.

"Careful!" I warned her as she carelessly meandered towards the infamous third rail. "That one there; the one you have you're paw over? If you touch it you'll be electrocuted!"

She glanced at me over her shoulder, mouth hung open half in disbelief, half in something else and she tip-toed around the rail I had pointed out. I jumped down to follow her, landing unsteadily on the hard metal rails. At that moment I felt the vibrations of an oncoming train. No doubt the one-oh-three running ahead of schedule.

Adlercat hung over another simple black sack, preparing to move it herself. I seized one end of the bag in my mouth and she hastily grabbed the other taking signal from me and together we lifted the cat off the ground.

Instantly my neck strained under the immensely heavy weight, but I ignored it as usual. I walked backwards carefully, searching for the third rail and hoping to avoid it. When I recognized it coming up I groaned as a warning to Adlercat (my mouth being currently occupied) and carefully stepped over it. If we had dropped the cat then it would have been instant death but thankfully she took notice from me and acted accordingly.

"Look, cats on the track!" Humans muttered and laughed amongst themselves above us, but once we had carefully navigated our way to a conveniently placed stairwell we ignored the rest of the world and focused on the next piece to the criminal puzzle that was the cat in the bag.

I pulled him out of the burlap sack and checked to make sure he was still breathing when he didn't respond to stimuli. He was alive, but completely unconscious. Most likely in a drugged stupor.

Just then Lestrade ran up to us panting heavily. "Hey, I know him! He's a Yarder like me. His name is Cathenley Jones."

"How clever of you to show up once the dangerous work is past." Adlercat said sharply.

"I was trapped by a gaggle of school children." He defended himself.

"Ooh, ferocious." She mocked.

"Would you two PLEASE?" I said, mostly focused on the long narrow sheet of folded paper that had fallen out of the sack with the cat.

Just then, a train rushed past us pulling into the station. The one-oh-three I presume.

I carefully unfolded the note. I am not ashamed to admit that my paws were trembling slightly from excitement.

"Two down(It said) Three left.

But isn't it time to go home Detective Inspector? It's nice to go home to a loving family at the end of a day and leave your work behind.

3:45 I should think."

We looked to Lestrade, the only person with the title 'Detective Inspector' among us. For once he solved a clue before I did.

"Dear God." He said shaking with emotion "My wife." And that was all he said before he turned and ran out of the station, Adler and I hot on his heels.


	10. The Great Game Part 3

**Watsoncat belongs to TheCapitainsideways and the tumbleverse. Enter if you dare! ****_Please, please, please, please,_****please**** don't do what you are about to read here to your friends or your cat. Or your friend's cat. Or your cat's friend. It is NOT COOL!**

* * *

Lestrade turned to run down the wrong road, taking the traditional route that he knew home, but I showed him a shortcut. He appeared somewhat frenzied and his decision making skills were duller than usual, so I took advantage by teaching him a bit of the London street ways.

It took much longer than anticipated to run from King's cross to Lestrade's house on the complete opposite side of the city. The traffic was thick, and moving just fast enough to make crossing streets hazardous. Several times I had to stop Lestrade from barreling head first into small openings in traffic that would close in a flash, spelling doom for any cat foolish enough to risk fate. I have much to say about the Yarders, but you will never find me declaiming them for lack of bravery.

* * *

_Watsoncat edit: Is it just me or is he becoming needlessly dramatic? Tell me I'm not the only one who sees it?_

* * *

According to a sign outside of a bank, it was two twenty-three before we even got close to Lestrade's home. We were still a long way off, but we were also winded and exhausted. Sprinting across cities, any cities, is generally tiring.

"If my wife is…huff…is…huff…I'll never forgive…huff." Lestrade for all of his passion and bravado was a bit out of shape and could not even stop panting long enough to swear an oath against our mysterious antagonist.

And who was this antagonist? The cat who not only knew that Detective Inspector Lestrade would be with us at the train station, but actually plotted to pull us as far away so that he could have free reign of his house. And if his ultimate goal was Lestrade, then why begin by warning me directly? There was more to the plot than the three of us could even possibly imagine.

Speaking of Adlercat, I'd been trying to lose her for a few blocks after the train station, but she was more than adept at keeping up with us.

By three-oh-clock we had finally arrived at Lestrade's house only to find the cat-door that he was used to entering and exiting from blocked by some heavy object. He shoved at the flap in vain and bashed his forehead against its immobile plastic.

I had no patience for his endeavors, so I simply found a window close to the ground and opened it.

Lestrade came as close to flying as I think I've ever seen him as he jumped from his door stoop straight through the window. He doesn't even realize what a feat it was.

Inside his house, all was quiet save for the humming of appliances. Even I was unnerved glancing into the shadows, expecting at any time to be accosted by our mysterious killer.

"The fish tank!" Adlercat cried and we spun around.

In one corner of the room a massive cube of glass housed almost one dozen brightly colored tropical fish that hovered like ghosts, and glowed blue from some sort of fish-light in the tank. At the bottom of the tank, nestled among the fake plants and pointlessly colored rocks lay a small white cat whose eyes were closed in the perfect countenance of peace.

"Oh Christ, she's dead." Lestrade wailed.

I, of course required a closer look. Lestrade failed to notice to apparent heavy rocks floating just above his wife's head (Though how is completely beyond me) he also failed to notice that though she was currently underwater her fur was not wet and a slight movement every few seconds indicated she was still breathing air.

"She's not dead." I said finally. "She's trapped. In a smaller glass tank held down by those rocks."

No sooner had I said this than Lestrade dove into the water with complete reckless regard for his life or that of his wife and began knocking rocks off the top of the smaller tank.

I, to my great dismay, had to dive in after him and kick him to earn his attention. He spewed bubbles and resurfaced sputtering out water and curses which I had no patience for.

"Listen!" I shouted "_I'll _remove the rocks; _you _get your wife to the surface as fast as possible. Don't let her breath the water, do you understand?"

He bobbed his head in understanding and ducked beneath the surface, gasping one huge breath of air without saying another word.

He floated down to the very bottom, kicking furiously to fight his natural buoyancy while I pushed the stones with my paws. They toppled over with the slightest jarring and in no time the tank began to lift and water rushed over his wife.

In a flash Lestrade had grabbed her and had kicked off the bottom of the tank shooting through the water like a missile. By the time I had resurfaced he was already gingerly lifting his wife out of the water. We gently laid her out on the floor and Lestrade began to really freak out. He couldn't sit still (though he tried a few times) and he ambled around his wife asking questions and nudging her with his nose.

"What's wrong with her?" he asked choking on a sob.

She was for the most part, none the worse for wear. Lestrade had been fast, so she shouldn't have much water in her lungs but she was still snoozing peacefully. Even being wet hadn't stimulated her.

"She'll probably be fine." I assured him.

He bent over her and tenderly began licking her dry. I was almost compelled to tell him that she was seeing another cat, but I heard Watsoncat's voice in my head warning me about timing.

I also had more important things to attend to, such as the note in orange crayon slipped into his wife's collar.

Adlercat removed it and straightened it out, and though it had smeared slightly it was still readable:

"Two left.

It's time for all good kitties to go home.

No time limit on this one Sherlock, just make sure you're free by 5:00."

"Home?" She asked.

"Baker Street, I'm sure." I answered. "Lestrade, stay here in case he comes back. Preserve any clues as you find him."

"Do you expect me to just sit here while you catch this creep?" he growled.

"Yes. I do."

Adlercat interjected "He could come back. You'll want to be with your wife just in case. Imagine how she'll feel if she wakes up alone."

Lestrade didn't look happy, but he looked less... like he wanted to fight.

"Catch this bastard. Find a Yarder on your way home. Tell them everything."

"Of course." I said, having no intention of doing anything of the sort.

"Let's hurry." Adlercat said.

"You're not coming."

"You can't stop me."

"I can try."

"You're wasting time."

"You're not coming." I finished. "That's all."

Suddenly we heard the opening of the door and a human voice. It was Lestrade's human home early.

"Run for it!" He commanded.

I made a beeline for the window, but I wasn't fast enough. The bumbling human shut it, unbeknownst to him that it was our only means of escape.

My next plan was to hide and I ducked beneath a table, but Adlercat wasn't so lucky.

The human swore and jumped a little while Adlercat wove in between his legs, searching manically for any means of escape. He swooped down upon her and picked her up by the scruff.

"Geez!" He exclaimed as she twisted and contorted trying to free herself from his grip. "Stray cats, stray cats! George, is this a friend of yours? George?"

He held up Adlercat to show to Lestrade (whose first name, apparently is George) and staggered back as he beheld the mess which was once his fish tank, the unconscious kitty and the two wet cats.

"What in the name of creation?" He cried. "What happened?"

He dropped Adlercat into a nearby wicker basket and tipped it over, trapping her underneath, and he went to the aid of the sleeping cat.

"She's barely breathing! What happened?" he asked again.

"Calm down Greg." Lestrade said leaning over his wife protectively.

"We need to get to a vet, quick!" he said gasping. "My wife is going to kill me."

"Sherlock, don't you leave without me!" Adlercat warned. Frankly I had never heard a better suggestion from her. If I had a route planned I would have done just so.

She lifted the wicker basket with her paws and pushed it over with her nose and as soon as she was free she made a beeline for me.

The human saw her and we were both caught. For the moment he put aside the sleeping cat (which I should think was foolhardy) and grabbed the two of us with each hand and dragged us, ruefully from beneath the table.

I was scraped along the hardwood floor and feeling resentful to one clingy spy-cat so I reached around and tried to free myself manually by scratching the hand that was pinching me.

The human mumbled something along the lines of "I'll bet you two had something to do with this, I'll deal with you later." And we were tossed into a nearby closet.

I heard the lock click and a rush of footsteps out the front door. Then, silence.

"I think he's gone." Adlercat said. "And he might have taken Lestrade with him."

"Great. That's just great!" I exclaimed. "Can you open this door?"

"It's locked." She said plainly.

"Can't you open locked doors?" I shouted.

"I can."

"Then do it!"

To this there was silence. It was pitch black in the closet, without even enough light for a cat to see by.

"Okay… maybe I can't." she admitted softly after a few moments.

"What kind of cat-burglar are you?"

"I'm not perfect. There are lots of different types of doorknobs out there you know!" she hissed.

I sat thinking. There didn't seem to be anyway out. But there HAD to be some way out. I didn't have the option of waiting.

"Are you worried?" she asked.

"That I'm a house cat without a collar? No."

"That something bad is happening to your little side-kick."

I laughed a bit at this. I knew that Watsoncat could, for the most part, take care of himself. I was slightly worried that if this criminal had offered him something to eat he would have taken it, but otherwise I trusted his judgment. He WAS a stray once after all.

"You know, I tried to play with him the other night, but he was a bit too stuck up to share you."

"Coincidentally you wouldn't have happened to have been sending him threatening emails, would you?"

"You misjudge me. It was just the one." She purred.

I tested the door again, seeing if it would somehow show some kind of weakness that I could utilize.

"Can you really not open this door, or is this another Dominatrix thing?" I asked

"We can make it one if you want."

"I'll pass."


	11. The Great Game Part 4

**Getting to the end of the great game arc. The end of Catlock. Let not your hearts be troubled though, Watsoncat still works on tumbler, and you can still find him on deviantart. If not, get in touch with ****Thecaptainsideways .**** She'll know what to do!**

* * *

I sat still thinking rapidly. Then I searched the closet for a low lying air vent. There wasn't one. I sat and withdrew into my mind palace for a bit searching for a way out. To say the least I was frustrated, to say more I was almost ready to try and rip through the door with my bare paws.

Long story short, Adlercat finally unlocked the door with her nails, but not until four-thirty according to the glowing green numbers on Lestrade's digital clock. Baker Street wasn't far away, but we were running out of time.

I opened the window and then we were off. By about five we had reached the flat and were met with a grizzly sight.

Sprawled across the front steps to our flat was the female kitty that Watsoncat had left with that morning. Her tongue was lolled out and even from across the street I could tell she was dead.

I swore under my breath, realizing that she was a sign from our mysterious villain. She was our next note.

Crossing the street I christened the body and prepared myself mentally to analyze the crime scene.

"Lily, age unknown, house cat." I rattled off taking a mental note of each fact.

"Lily? House cat? Sherlock, who is she?" Adlercat said.

"She was Watsoncat's date this morning. Now it seems as though she is victim number four."

"So that means...Moriarty has your side-kick?" she gasped.

"It appears so. Watsoncat must be victim number five, unless we can hurry."

"Let me help." Adlercat said eagerly. "She's not a house cat, I know her."

I was startled. "How?"

"She's a stray, same business as me." she said approaching the body. With one paw the lifted the slack lips from the yellowing teeth.

"Swollen gums, rotten teeth; signs of malnutrition and a steady diet of garbage. Common among strays. Her name was Bordeaux, and she'd do anything for a meal."

I mulled over the information, committing it to memory. "So she was working for Moriarty. The entire day has been a plot to lure me away while our antagonist was free to do as he pleases with Watsoncat, but why?"

I analyzed the scene on our doorstop as faithfully as I would analyze any crime scene. Behind the stairwell towards the east was a pool of vomit, probably from our victim in her death throes. Partially immersed in this puddle of what appeared to be at one time tuna a simple photo lay face-down. The side facing up had writing in orange crayon, removing any doubt that the incidents were unrelated.

"1127" I read. "One thousand one hundred and twenty-seven."

I flipped the picture over and scanned it diligently. It was a photo of Watsoncat, curled up asleep on a foreign blue bed sheet, tail wound peacefully around his legs; content as though he were still safe inside the flat at Baker Street. As if I needed any more convincing that he was in danger, Moriarty had sent me a picture of him in his grips.

Other than the bed sheet the picture didn't reveal anything more. Save only that a cat had definitely taken the photo. The camera had been balanced on the bed, since a cat could not have picked it up and taken the picture at the same time.

There was no other request and no other hint. Whoever we were playing opposite wanted me to really work out the clues left only on the dead cat. It was the true test of the evening.

I would not disappoint. The cat's breath smelled of poison, or to be precise of metal that indicated poison. The cat herself smelled of sweet and poignant flowers, the kind usually associated with the tropics. So somewhere near tropical flowers, a park? No.

On the cat's front paws there were little chips of gray stone. These turned out to be concrete that she had stepped in that had dried while she walked. The only reason that she would not have noticed something as obvious and uncomfortable as sharp nuggets of concrete pressing into her feet would be because she was already suffering the effects of the poison. So there was construction nearby.

The cat's back paws were muddy with fresh red clay; the kind of silt clay that can be found directly south of Baker Street.

I summoned a map in my mind of London and plotted probable locations. After eliminating the impossible options I was left with one, somewhat more likely option. A hotel de Gateau or something that was located not too far away, within casual walking distance. I thought that 1127 must be the room number.

I started at a brisk walk towards the hotel and broke into a light jog as a worm of panic swept over me. I checked off clues in my head as I passed them. First I came upon the wet concrete from a sidewalk under construction. The concrete even had paw prints drying onto the surface; I was definitely on the right track. Next I passed an abandoned lot in between buildings that had been drenched by a broken fire hydrant. The whole street was coated in red mud. Finally I found myself outside the hotel, which was opposite a florist shop that displayed beautiful hibiscus flowers in its windows.

"Is this the place?" Adlercat asked. I had truthfully forgotten that she was even still with me.

"Yes." I said.

"Are you prepared to face him?" she asked.

"It doesn't matter; whether or not I'm ready the time has come to meet this psychopath face-to-face."

"What if this is a trap?" She asked.

"It's clearly a trap. What else could it be?" I said. "You can leave if you want."

"You know me better than that Sherlock, the only reason I've been following you is revenge. I'm not leaving until I get back at that back-stabbing Moriarty." She said fiercely.

I laughed. "Somehow that suites you."

We entered the building through the front entrance (the back would have been better but it was locked) and darted beneath human legs until we reached a stairwell. At every floor there was a sign that told us what rooms would be on each floor. Thankfully ours was on the first floor.

We walked down until we found room 1127, then we stopped. I listened for movement from within, but heard nothing.

"It's possible that they do not know you're following me. You could run and perhaps they wouldn't find you." I said turning to Adlercat.

"Funny." She said seriously "I'd considered the same thing. But then I'd be denied my revenge, and where's the fun in that?"

"You could run now and be free forever, or you could follow me a bit further and run the risk of being killed again."

"I run that risk every day."

"I don't want your death to be on my head."

"Then I'll free you from guilt right now. Just wash your hands of me and you will have no blame in whatever happens."

"Women…" I rolled my eyes wondering why I had bothered to voice concern in the first place.

Adlercat opened the door to the small room, which turned out to be empty. It was a normal human environment with a small area for cooking and a white couch for sitting. Except that every white surface seemed to be mottled with black cat fur. It was everywhere; tumbling around our feet in little clusters, floating down off of the tables in chunks. Even Watsoncat didn't shed that much.

I began searching for signs of Watsoncat while Adlercat did… something else. I wasn't really paying any attention.

I caught some of his scent in a corner and followed it through the hotel room until it disappeared beneath the door to another room, and then I was forced to ask Adlercat for help.

"Happy to oblige." She said teasingly.

She opened the door and I only needed a brief glimpse to tell that it was definitely the same room that Watsoncat had been in. His orange fur was all over the blue bed sheet and it was the same bed sheet from the photo.

I walked in, trying to gather all the clues I could, but there was really nothing much else to say besides I knew that he was here.

There was some kind of packaging on the floor, but it was completely ripped to shreds. Chunks of cardboard and strips of clear plastic were scattered all over the room. Nothing on the packaging was legible and much of it had been chewed up.

"Bad news!" Adlercat cried from the kitchen. "Poison! And someone has eaten it!" I ran out to find her in the kitchen sink, covering her nose as though she had smelled something awful.

"That must be what killed that stray." I said. "I'm fairly certain that Watsoncat is still alive."

"What makes you so sure?" she asked.

"If he were dead, he'd still be here. No cat takes the time and effort to move a dead cat."

"What if they poisoned him and made him leave, like they did with Bordeaux?" she asked.

"Then what was the point in kidnapping him in the first place?" I cried.

A scream from the balcony of the hotel drew my attention to the sliding glass door. I had somehow overlooked a note written in orange crayon that had been taped to the glass. It stated simply: "Leap of faith." And nothing else.

Even I can open a sliding glass door, all one needs to do is lean their weight against it and push and it magically glides the rest of the way. In a flash I was on the balcony and I found the source of the scream. It was a burlap sack hanging above the railing, just like the previous victims, only this cat was awake and apparently in mortal terror.

"H-help! Mother!" It cried with a child's voice and I realized that it must have been only a kitten.

The construct that the sack was hanging off of was ingenious and unique. It was shaped like a sideways U with two bars connected through a series of gears and levers. The sack was tied to one of the bars and dangled dangerously off to the side while the other bar was just within jumping reach.

I tried to deduce what the gears would do if I jumped out onto that bar, but it is really hard to think when an annoying kitten is wailing pitifully. I just remembered the clue: 'Leap of faith' and I bound up to the railing and off the side of the building, reaching for the bar.

I grabbed onto the wooden handle and to my surprise the force of my weight and inertia made the gears move and the kitten swung to safety. I almost slipped but I held on long enough for the bar I held in my clutches to make a complete rotation and jolt to a stop beside the sack.


	12. The Great Game Part 5

When we had dropped the kitten safely onto the balcony Adlercat gave me a piercing hard look that was hard to place.

"What?" I asked.

She said nothing, but let the juvenile out of the bag. The kitten flopped out of the sack and wailed pitifully nuzzling Adlercat's legs affectionately.

"Wahh! I want my mother!" It declared in between sobs.

Adlercat licked it and soothed it with the unmistakable feminine talent that I have noted on occasion as being very handy in such situations. I, on the other hand, was a bit more interested in examining the construct and trying to find a hint as to where Watsoncat might have been taken.

The construct was interesting, but ultimately purposeless. I'll waste no more time mentioning it other than by the time I finished examining it the sun was sinking beneath the horizon and throwing vibrant colors into the sky. The overcast had faded for the most part and now caught streaks of vermillion and hues of violet as the sun tossed them out with its orange flaming arms. For some reason the colors caught my fancy, and though I could care less about celestial bodies, that doesn't mean I couldn't appreciate the show of light playing on the edge of the city.

There, are you happy? I added something that makes me sound normal and boring. Quit bothering me!

* * *

_ Watsoncat's edit: I made him add that, and yes I'm happy. :3_

* * *

The kitten finally stopped sobbing when I jumped down, somewhat distraught at not finding anything worth noting on the construct.

If there was a clue to where Watsoncat was, I couldn't find it. Me!

Since Moriarty had left no trace I was force to wonder if Watsoncat was his objective all along, but I deemed that as illogical. Why would he warn me if he could have just taken him while he was on his date, and I wouldn't have been any the wiser? No, Watsoncat was still only a piece in the game, and I was still trying to make a defining move.

"Did you find anything?" Adlercat asked.

"No."

"I did."

"What?" I cried out in disbelief.

The kitten sobbed, pushed on by Adler's comforting tongue, and began to speak tentatively in a trembling squeak.

"The _King_ invites you c-c-cordially to have an audience. H-he's waiting on h-his _throne_ on top of the _world_ at the crest of p-p-puh-pro-providuh-_providence_."

I sat still, mulling over this nearly intelligible clue. No doubt there was significance in each word, but what did it mean?

"Sherlock…"

"Shut up." I snapped at Adlercat. "Don' talk to me, just don't. Don't breathe. I'm going to my mind palace."

And there I was, strolling down halls flipping through information in a uniformed, organized manner. The clues I chose as important were world, providence, and throne. I played with possibilities for a moment, eliminating true providence (meaning dead) and Providence Rhode Island as unlikely, but I got an unexpected hit when I mulled over the possibility of Providence Road in London.

Suddenly I was firing on all cylinders and I got several unexpected hits for each keyword. On _Providence_ Road there was a _Travel King_ hotel with an enormous neon _globe_ as its symbol.

"I know that look." Adlercat said as I came back to reality. "You've found him."

"I think so." I said. "I have to go."

She stopped me suddenly, blocking my path determinedly.

"Oh, what now?" I moaned, tired of the endless string of womanly conundrums that never seemed to cease when Adler dogged my every move.

To my surprise she calmly and tenderly placed her heavy head on my shoulder, coming closer to me than I would have thought polite. Her chest fur brushed against mine and it tickled, but I swallowed the urge to jump away.

"I can't follow you, can I?" She asked with a surge of emotion lacing her voice. I had never heard anything like that before and I wondered if she was acting and why?

"No. Not this time." I answered. "But in all fairness that never stopped you before."

"Then this might be the last time we ever see each other."

"One can only hope."

She lifted her head and glared at me with her remarkable crisp green eyes.

"You can be so mean…" she muttered.

"You can too." I reminded her.

"Touché."

I waited patiently for her to remove herself from the side of my neck, but she remained silently. Not moving or speaking, just laying on me.

I cleared my throat, hoping that she would take the hint, and she did.

"I know you're anxious to leave. But just give me one more moment. This is how I want to remember you: The sunset at your back and your shoulder as my pillow."

I waited, exploding with anxiety. Finally Adlercat lifted her head and I was gone. I ran over to the door that we had left open and I raced out, down the hall, down the stairs, out the door and onto the streets.

It seemed like hours before I came across a patch of Watsoncat's scent. Even thought I knew where I was going it was still reassuring to know that I was on the right path. I followed my intuition and his scent right up to the building, and then I hypothesized that the phrase "on top of the world actually meant above the sign on the roof of the building.

The rest Watsoncat wrote and I have no desire to list again. It would be a repetitive waste of time. I have more important matters to invest my time in such as the current case of the Feathered Wolf or the Brighton Vampire. This was an instructional exercise, yet I have no desire to write again. I'll leave the chronicling to Watsoncat.

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**Yeah, one more chapter form Watsoncat! Smile everybody!**


	13. Hostage in Hell

**Warning: Animal abuse ahead. Well, animals abusing other animals. Still, things are about to get rough up ahead. Reader discrecion is advised. Watsoncat belongs to thecaptainsideways. People and situations belong to BBC's Sherlock.**

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Sher-cat is sleeping right now. He's been doing that a lot recently.

Oh, Hello. It's me Watsoncat.

Typing is so soothing right now. It feels like everything is easing back to normal. It's not of course, I'm just lulling myself into a false sense of security; but I'm becoming weary of being on alert all the time.

My sense of security is trashed and my trust in others has never been lower. Not even as a stray. I was really betrayed by someone I thought I cared about, but who turned out to be an imposter.

No, it's not Sher-cat. He's one-hundred percent genuine snoring slightly on the chair behind me. Thank goodness for that little bit of consistency in my life.

I was typing a bit of a journal entry a few days ago when I heard Sher-cat talking to someone at the window. When I heard my name I jumped next to him to see who it was. It was a cat I knew kind of well. I had seen her picture on my tumbler lots of times. She was a pretty brown kitty with big green eyes and perky wedge shaped ears. I really like nice ears on a cat, mine being a bit damaged and all.

"Lily? Is that you?" I asked incredulously.

"Watsoncat! I thought I could find you here!" she exclaimed.

"I didn't know you lived around here!"

"I didn't either, but a friend said she knew where you lived and… Would you come out with me?" she asked sheepishly.

I felt my face get hot and my vision started to swim. But it was a good feeling. It was like a song was bubbling up in my chest and I couldn't hold the warm happy notes in.

That song came out as a soft, mulish squeal. I cleared my throat quickly and brushed away my horror and embarrassment, trying to play it cool for what appeared to be the first time in my life.

"You mean like a… _date_?" I asked trembling slightly.

"If it's okay with you." She said turning her head sweetly to the side and shyly smiling.

"No. No no no. Not okay, goodbye cat." Sher-cat said nudging me in the ribs.

I was petrified for a moment with outright shock. Sher-cat couldn't be that much of a jerk could he?

"Sher-cat. Be nice!" I scolded.

"No time for nice, you're pretty head is wandering off to pheromone land, from which it will never return. We're about to go clue hunting around town and for all you know that little she-cat could be a spy. She can't come with us."

We had been searching for clues about this Moriarty-cat for days and killing ourselves all day and night as we hunted around the city for tidbits of useless information. I was a bit peeved.

"Then I'll go out with Lily, you can hunt for clues alone." I said huffily.

"Be reasonable!" he demanded. "You met this cat over the internet; you don't know who she is or what she's capable of!"

I jumped down off the window sill madder than I had been in a long time. It might have been the exhaustion, but I saw red. He was being pompous and he wouldn't even give Lily a chance. I didn't have any friends other than Sher-cat and it wasn't fair that I had to slave away for him and dedicate all of my time to his clues while a perfectly good friend was ignored.

"I don't care what she's capable of, I want to spend the day with her and that's final. I haven't been on a date in eons!" I said.

What I didn't say was that I'd never been on a date. In the large house where I'd lived before John had taken me to the flat, there were no other cats for miles and as a stray love really isn't the number-one priority, staying alive is. Some strays have this weird sense of love where they would find a female or male cat and fling themselves at their feet until… but I was a bit more romantic and ambitious than that.

"You haven't lived for eons." Sher-cat said smugly, as if that settled the whole affair.

If I couldn't change his mind the normal way, then I was just going to leave him to his own devices. I walked out of the flat assuring him "You can deal with yourself for a few hours. I'll be here when you are done."

Outside the morning was warm and sunny and I felt like laughing. I was going on a date! With a girl! Me!

Lily walked over to me and brushed up against my face with her cheek. I almost fainted.

"Want to see my apartment?" she purred.

"Okay!" I said a little bit too eagerly.

"Then just follow Me." she licked my cheek tenderly. Yellow spots danced in front of my vision and I made a weird noise, like a cooing dove as I stumbled after her down the side walk. Smooth right?

We walked past the flat and I saw Sher-cat looking down on us from his window perch. He didn't seem pleased, but that just made it even more fun for me.

For a while I followed Lily blindly, not noticing anything but the swishing of her thin, dark tail and the cute way she rotated her ears, but after a few minutes without conversation I began to get nervous.

"What if she thinks I'm boring?" I worried silently. I decided to force some conversation.

"So how's Tyson?" I asked hopefully.

"Who?" she said.

"Tyson. You're roommate?"

"Oh." She said sadly. "He's dead."

"Dead!" I exclaimed, feeling awful about bringing up such a tender subject. "That's awful! I'm so sorry!"

"Well… that's life. I think I'm handling it well, all things considered." She said sadly with her head bowed.

"I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to bring up such a tender subject!"

"It's fine. You couldn't have known."

The whole rest of the trip was spent in silence. I wanted to say something nice to make up for hurting her feelings, but I was too scared that I would just be pouring salt into the wound, so I kept my mouth shut.

We approached a large, fancy building and Lily stopped and looked over it appreciatively.

"This is where I live." She said proudly.

"It's a beautiful building." I said.

"It is isn't it?" She said mysteriously.

I wanted to ask her a few more questions, but she turned around and licked my cheek again and all of the words in my vocabulary melted away like butter.

"Thank you so much for coming out. I really appreciate it." She said in a soft murmur.

I didn't say anything. My legs gave out and I sunk down to the pavement wearing a stupid grin. Mr. Smooth.

She showed me a back entrance that she liked to use and that had been propped open for us today with a folded up newspaper. She removed the newspaper, which I thought was odd but she explained that it was to keep the humans from becoming too suspicious, which made sense.

We walked up the stairs (cats shouldn't use elevators) to the second floor and she rewarded me with two more licks for being good. Once to initial euphoria wore off I began to become a bit suspicious of her. Why was she rewarding me for doing something as easy as following her? It seemed like she was afraid I would run away or something? Was there something wrong with me? Did I give her the wrong impression?

She showed me down a hallway to the room and asked me to open the door for her.

I happily jumped upon the door knob and actually offered to teach her how to open doors. She politely refused.

"No thank you, maybe later." She assured me.

Lily's apartment was nice. It was small and neat, but there weren't really a lot of cat toys or dog things lying around. There was really nothing at all to indicate a cat lived there.

Except for clods and clumps of cat fur that were literally everywhere. I could smell another cat's scent thick and strong on every surface. It was a little bit over powering, and I could just barely smell Lily at all.

"I didn't know you lived with other cats." I told her.

"My humans take in foster animals sometimes. Are you hungry?" she lazily wandered into an area of the room that looked vaguely like a kitchen.

"No, not really. I ate before I came." I said.

I was honestly beginning to panic. Sher-cat's warnings echoed in my head and I realized that the more time I spent with 'Lily' the more suspicious she became.

"You'll really want to try this food. My human bought it special. It makes you feel great. I was thinking we could play a little bit. I have this great toy that swings around all on its own…" her voice drifted over the flat, but I was beyond listening. I was too absorbed in the cat hair on the floor.

The black cat hair on the floor.

Moriarty. No sooner had I thought his name than the entire episode made perfect sense to me. I had been lured into a trap. No, I had fallen right into a trap like an idiot. Sher-cat was right. He's never been wrong, but this time he was extra right.

I turned to try and open the door, and 'Lily' walked out of the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" she asked. Her eyes darted from me to the door nervously, and she couldn't pretend to hide the thin veil of fear in her big beautiful eyes. Like placid, perfect green pools. It hurt to think she was betraying me, but I had the facts right in front of me. I would have been a greater fool to ignore what I saw over what I felt.

"Home. I need to see Sher-cat." I told her, wondering if she would attack me at any moment.

"You can't leave." She said. "You haven't eaten."

"I know a great spot for take-out." I said sarcastically as I jumped upon the door handle.

"Don't go." She cried pitifully but the door was already open, and I didn't plan on sticking around and waiting for her to figure out how to finish me.

Suddenly something collided with me as I hung from the door. It pushed the air right out of me and threw me to the floor. I coughed and sputtered for a moment, dazed and confused wondering where I was and why my head hurt and then I looked up into the face of the most hideous cat I had ever seen.

His face looked as though he'd been slammed into a brick wall. It was flat and all of his features were folded giving him weird wrinkles. His teeth were huge and sharp and jutted out of the bottom of his lips like tusks giving him a primal and feral look.

He stood on top of me, pinning me to the ground completely and spewing his hot breath into my face. I couldn't move enough to even turn my head, let alone fight back.

"Well, he's not at all as stupid as he portrays himself." I heard a soft drawling voice from somewhere over head. I cried out a bit as I attempted to throw the weight of the other cat off of me, but with one paw he pushed down on my throat and silently threatened to choke me.

"Good Morning Doctor."

I gasped as I looked up into the face of the cat from the Baskerville's yard. There was no doubt in my mind that I had finally come face-to-face with Moriarty.

He smiled when I called him by that name, but it wasn't a good smile. It was the 'cat has a mouse under its paw' smile that I had come to associate with acts of great cruelty from my time on the streets. His eyes were cold and dead. The expression on his face didn't reach them at all. I shivered.

"We almost had ourselves a situation. Your work here is done Mrs. B." he turned away and the ugly cat roughly shoved me and rolled me over into a corner where he blocked me against the wall.

"Be gentle with him. He's all fur underneath." She said.

"Traitor!" I hissed, tears of frustration beginning to well up behind my eyes. I would not let them fall by any means, but I couldn't help the crack of emotion in my voice.

"You're payment is in the sink, and as soon as you're done we can begin your second and final job for the day." Moriarty said in a curt, casual, business-like manner. I thought I was going to be sick.

"What do you want?" I asked pushing myself as far back against the wall as I possibly could go. The ugly cat's thin pink tongue kept creeping out of his deformed mouth and wetting his lips as he eyed me hungrily. I was dizzy again, but this time with fear.

"Sorry sir, I couldn't get him to eat anything. He was too suspicious."

"And rightly so. No matter." He said with a lazy flick of his paw.

"Seb," he barked. "Finish it." From the hallway another cat appeared. This cat was huge; easily twice my size with a long, elegant neck and long, gazelle-like legs. Its ears were extra-large and rotated like satellite dishes on top of its small, heart shaped head. This cat gave me the impression of being a direct descendent of lions or cougars and it had spots and stripes on his coat like a leopard.

Both cats responded to being called "Seb", so I really don't know who he was referring to, but leopard-cat joined tusk-cat in cornering me. I swiped at them both a little with my open claws and they easily avoided every tentative attack.

Leopard-cat ducked down beneath my assault and the next thing I knew, he was gathering my scruff in his mouth, practically paralyzing me and picking me up at the same time.

He was such a big cat. I'm not ashamed to say that I felt a lot like a kitten at that moment. I was carried from the main room to a bedroom behind the kitchen where I was tossed inside. In the room there was a small paper plate with a gross-looking liquid something that the leopard-cat pushed me into.

"Eat it." He said.

"No."

He shot me a dangerous look. I take it that he hasn't been refused often before.

Tusk-cat appeared behind him. In a flash he leapt onto me and pushed my face into the wet-stuff. It's a cat-instinct to lick stuff off of your face, and I fought it for as long as I could, but my neck hurt and I was scared.

Almost as soon as I had licked the stuff my hearing and vision became funny. The two cats chatted amongst themselves as though I wasn't there.

"What is that stuff?"

"It's used in surgeries I think."

"So he won't be bothering us for a while."

"He should be **ASLEEP IN JUST A FEW MOMENTS**!" Suddenly their voices were unbearable and the room was spinning so I closed my eyes and covered my ears and prayed for it to stop but it wouldn't stop.

I could hear their distended voices echoing through my paws, and I could hear my heart beating in my ears a hundred times louder than normal and the sensation of spinning just got worse and worse.

"**HEY** _thumpathumpathumpa_ **WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH HIM** thumpathumpa."

"**IT'S JUST** **A** _thumpathumpa_ **NOTHER AFFECT OF THE DRUG** _thumpathumpa_. _Thumpathumpathumpathumpa_ **HE SHOULD BE OUT ANY TIME NOW**! _Thumpathumpathumpa_."

I sobbed as the pain and sickness became little more than insufferable. Bile bubbled up in my throat and threatened to leak out of my mouth but I swallowed it. Then suddenly from within the pain a flower of darkness bloomed, and with the dark came calm and relief and I gratefully seized my chance to leave the world behind.

My next memory was that of being moved slightly from where I was comfortably curled up. I tried to fight the movement, but I was too tired and I just let my body get pushed, rolled and jabbed by someone's sharp cat-paws.

After that was another few seconds of relief (it was probably a few hours, but it only felt like a few seconds.) then a horrible jolting like that which I had never felt before.

It felt like claws pressing into my neck and a tremor of fear rocking straight into my heart at the same time. I tore at my throat, still only semi-conscious and roared in pain and confusion.

Then as suddenly as it had started, it ebbed away leaving me pawing at my throat and trying to understand what the heavy, plastic box was where the pain was supposed to be.

"Fascinating. Much more effective than I initially gave them credit for. I'll have to start using these commercially."

I looked around and found that I was on a bed somewhere and standing above me were Moriarty's lackeys, leopard and tusk-cat. Moriarty himself was sitting on a small night table grinning wickedly above a thin, gray box with a black switch.

"Good evening Doctor, how do you like our new shock collars? I bought them in bulk without testing them out first. They work beautifully, and that was only the first setting."

"There's more?" I asked feeling stupid. My mouth was heavy, and the weight of the collar seemed to be dragging me down.

"Ten settings in total. I can't wait to try them all out." He said giddily, but like I said before his emotions didn't reach his eyes. In his eyes I saw something cold and calculating that I couldn't quite place.

I couldn't imagine the pain becoming ten times worse, but I was rapidly trying to come up with a plan. The shock had really woken me up and I realized I wasn't as drugged as they thought I was. I just had to make them think I was really drugged, and then I would grab the switch when they weren't prepared and run for my life.

Not the best plan I'd ever made but a fair one, all things considered.

"Time to move." Moriarty nodded to his minions who circled me menacingly.

My eyelids felt like they were weighted down and I blinked heavily while trying to figure out what on earth he could have meant by move. My brain felt like it was covered in a cold fog and thinking was hard.

Leopard-cat roughly shoved me with his shoulder and I toppled over, unable to stop myself and uncertain as to how my limbs worked anymore. One or two more shoves and I plummeted off the bed and landed on the hard floor.

Moriarty softly landed near my head. I could hear his four paws hit the thin carpet at different times. He put one paw on the top of my head and rubbed it vigorously until it hurt.

"Careful, we wouldn't want to damage him now, would we? What would we do for fun later?" He cooed.

I thought I was going to puke out my heart, I was so scared. Psychopath; that word kept popping up in my mind, though at the time I was having trouble figuring out why.

The other cats jumped on each side of me while Moriarty kind of lead the way and they bit and shoved me until I walked on my own. The collar felt like it weighed ten pounds and it was hard not to scrape it against the floor.

It was awkward progress as I was constantly being jostled by the two mean cats that were pressed so close against me that our shoulders were rubbing. I guess they really didn't want me to run away. There goes my plan.

I was escorted out of the building onto the streets where I came up with a new plan: Find a cat (maybe a Yarder) and scream bloody murder.

It was a long way to where ever we were walking and after a while I gave up hope of finding another cat the streets seemed deserted. My third and final plan involved giving Sher-cat a clue as to where I was going, but it wouldn't be easy. I would have to trick all three of my captors.

I tripped and stumbled to the ground, scraping my face against the pavement. In an instant tusk-cat and leopard-cat were roughly jarring me with their shoulders and generally beating me to my feet. I picked myself up haggardly and staggered on trying hiding a slight smile that twitched at the corners of my lips. I had scented the ground heavily, now all Sher-cat needed to do was find it.

I 'tripped' several times leaving a trail when I thought it was safe and only when Moriarty wouldn't notice. I was almost certain that they thought I was extremely loopy from the drug, and I contemplated how to use that to my advantage. In the end all I could do was trip, scrape my face, and move on.

It was about late afternoon by that time and the sun sank below the buildings of the city. Even though it still threw beams of light across the clouds, down beneath the buildings it was as dark as night. I couldn't help but stare at the cats around me. When I thought back to Ghost, the mysterious stray that Moriarty had sent to his doom I shuddered to look at tusk-cat's teeth. Ghost's tail had been chewed off by another cat. I felt like bringing my tail closer to me, but I really needed it for balance. The drug had largely worn off as the city began to cool, but every few minutes a dizzy spell would throw me for real and I would feel like throwing up.

Suddenly the trio turned into an alleyway and we approached a fire escape attached to some red-brick building. Moriarty turned and spoke to me for the first time in hours.

"You first."

I glanced around, hoping that there would be a cat by some miracle walking down the street that I could turn to for help but there was no one coming or going. We were totally alone.

I stepped forward and had the crazed notion that if I started running then maybe I would somehow be able to get out of range and the shock collar wouldn't hurt me. All I knew was that once I was off the ground and up the ladder, there would be no help.

As if sensing my intentions Moriarty shocked me briefly. It was only for a second, but it was much more painful than before and I yelped in pain.

"Hurry." He ordered.

I reluctantly started to climb the ladder with the black cat right on my heels. As soon as I made it to the first floor he ushered me onto the second floor, and so on, and so on for sixteen floors. I only was able to 'trip' once and I feared that Sher-cat would not be able to follow the break in the trail.

The sixteenth floor wasn't a floor at all, it was actually the roof. I tripped for real over a short concrete wall into a pit of gravel and was stomped upon by Moriarty.

"Get up." He hissed.

I pulled myself to my feet, suddenly terrified of the ice I heard in his voice and glanced around. There was nowhere to go and nothing to hide behind. The roof was large and flat and lonely and a perfect place for a confrontation.

Sher-cat.

My brain, now free of the restricting effects of the drugs made the final connection and I realized that the only reason I was even still alive was to lure Sher-cat to the roof. I probably didn't even need to leave a trail; no doubt Moriarty had left him some clues.

"You finish the set-up, I'll check on our friends progress." He said lazily and with another wave of his paw the leopard-cat grabbed my scruff and began to carry me to one edge of the building. I fought him this time, twisting and straining as much as I could while the edge of the building loomed dangerously just out of the corner of my eye. What if I was wrong and they just tossed me over the side of the building?

"Wait." Moriarty said and leopard-cat froze dead where he stood, me hanging limply from his mouth like a piece of raw meat. I sighed in relief for the moment, but I was weary of what he would say next.

"I want to see something." He said and leopard-cat dropped me roughly to the ground. I saw the small gray switch under his paw and said a silent prayer. He turned the switch as far as it would go, and suddenly everything started happening in slow motion. Tusk-cat started to laugh like a hyena, his shoulders trembling in anticipation and leopard-cat took a large, graceful step away from me and for the first time the smile on Moriarty's face reached his eyes.

Then the pain.

It was a hot knife into my chest, straining my muscles until I feared they would snap; a guttural choking that was my own voice, unable to breath, unable to move.

It was a red flower opening up in the night sky, and every star screaming one final death roar as they were wiped away by the red and black flood.

It was the strange, duel sensation of being two people at once. One person detached from the whole affair and drifting away into a calmer, quieter place and one person who was supremely physical, who felt everything from the gust of gentle night air to the liquid fire in his veins.

And then it was over. Just as quickly as it began everything was removed, vanished, dissipated like a puff of smoke but the sensation lingered and caused twitching and writhing long after the shock was gone. It took some effort on my part to understand that the writhing, groaning creature that sounded so far away and pitiful was me.

I swallowed the cool night sky gratefully, sobbing uncontrollably. It hurt so BAD! I couldn't even describe it all. I didn't just cry, my eyes had watered from the pain and leaked down my face like hot rivulets. It hurt so bad! I would face the vet one million times if I never had that pain again. It hurt so bad! I can't think of anything else to say. It was so powerful, so painful… so bad.

"I thought so. Go ahead."

I was picked up again by the scruff, but I was only barely aware of it. I was still trying to come to terms with still being alive. I was trying to understand that the pain and I were separate now, where we had been one and the same before. It was bad.

I began to come back to reality a bit when leopard-cat put me down. He put me down on a concrete perch over the side of the building that was just wide enough for all four of my paws to stand on and over looked the street below.

I cried and tried to jump back to the safety (If you could call it that) of the roof, but leopard-cat pushed me back and I almost slid off and fell.

"Stay." He said motioning behind him. I didn't have to look twice to know that he was motioning to Moriarty and his switch.

"Oh God." I whispered in a raspy voice, for the pain had drained me of almost all strength. My legs were weak and shaking. One false slip and I would tumble over the side of the building and fall sixteen stories to the hard, gray concrete. Just one more body for the Yard to investigate, just one more body for the road-kill truck to take away.

I didn't know if I could hold myself up for long. I didn't have much of a choice though. In my mind I was playing a quick game of odds and sizing up my chances of surviving. Moriarty, the switch, the ledge, the fall, Sher-cat.

Would Sher-cat come? Did he solve all the clues? Would Moriarty let me live if he came, or was he waiting to kill both of us at the same time?

I could see it in my mind's eye; the black paw coming down on the switch, me recoiling in pain and falling down, down, down until I stopped suddenly against the pavement, every bone in me crunching.

My legs almost gave out on me, but I held them firm. I just told myself that I wasn't going to die.

The waiting was torture. The sun had sunk hours ago and the wind began to pick up, whipping me back and forth and threatening to push me off of the ledge. I took it silently like a man. I wasn't about to show any weakness in front of the other cats. I just gritted my teeth and pretended I didn't notice.

Finally I heard the groaning of metal as something climbed up the fire escape. At first I hoped it was Sher-cat, but as I waited I realized that if Sher-cat never showed up, then we both would probably live longer. The waiting was agony, but I was afraid a resolution would mean death.

Sher-cat heaved himself up onto the concrete and hastily glanced around.

"Sher-cat!" I called to him and he found me in the darkness with a surprised expression.

"Good evening Mr. Holmes." Moriarty drawled from where he was sitting in the center of the roof. He sounded casual; even though it was apparent he'd been planning this for quite some time.

"…you." Sher-cat growled, finally meeting his 'master thief'. "Moriarty."

"Well, two for two. Look who's so special. I honestly didn't think you'd put a name to my entity yet." Moriarty said; his back turned to me so I couldn't see his expression.

"It's a nice night. This seemed like a good place to talk." He said casually, as if he'd invited Sher-cat for snacks instead of to a standoff with a hostage.

Sher-cat's eyes flickered in the starlight as he took in his foe. His face did not betray a single expression and he remained composed like stone.

"All the little puzzles, making me dance; running me around London it was all to distract me from this."

"Right you are. Also it was a little test to see if I was overestimating your abilities."

"And the results?"

"You're right on par with what I had expected."

"Thank you." Sher-cat said.

"It's not a compliment."

Their voices were low, so low I could barely hear them over the whistling of wind in my ears. I was afraid that at any moment the words would be swallowed completely, so I listened intently.

"You're in my way." Moriarty said "But you're interesting. I'd been meaning to set up an interview for some time."

Sher-cat said nothing, but I thought I caught a flicker of light flash my way.

"Cat criminals, the first of their kind, headed by a boss and reveling in riches on a human scale." He murmured. "Brilliant."

"You mark me too highly. I merely dabble at crime myself. Most of my accumulations come via fees for my service."

"Consulting cat-burglar?" Sher-cat asked.

"Just so."

Both cats seemed remarkably restrained towards each other, like two friends who had met by accident and were chatting idly. Only the sense of impending dread and the tense expression on Sher-cat's face betrayed anything even resembling the standoff.

"You've actually managed, completely blindly and by chance I might add, to hinder a few of my smoother operations. And now I hear that you're seeking me out by name? I can't just let you roam around now? I'm running a business."

Sher-cat glanced at me once more and I glanced at the switch under Moriarty's paw. He'd been walking around it for a short distance, but never far enough away for Sher-cat to grab it. Not that Sher-cat could have known its significance at the time.

"Don't get me wrong, you're little escapades are mere flea bites in the face of my organization, but there's been a bit too many of these bites and now they're beginning to irritate me."

I was getting scared of where this conversation was going. It didn't sound like it was going anywhere near safety and was actually sailing south towards murder.

"If you wanted me dead, why are we here?" Sher-cat asked.

"Mm. Don't know. I keep changing my mind about you. That's the trouble with me. I'm soo changeable." His voice suddenly took on a mocking, sing-song tone that sent a ripple of terror through me and briefly I threatened to topple over the ledge, I was so shaken.

"You're right though, if I wanted you dead you'd have never made it up here. I'm certainly going to kill you one day, but I find that leaving you alive grants me staggering possibilities. Imagine someone like me, thinking that I was all alone and isolated on this heightened intellectual plane, and then along comes you. You, perhaps even on the same level as me, but working on the side of the angels! Delicious! Can you blame me for seeming a bit intrigued?"

"Cats have died." Sher-cat said in a low, feral growl.

I saw Moriarty turn and sneer. "Cats do little else."

There was a moment of silence while the two enemies finished sizing each other up. The wind song in my ears had grown into a constant roar and I feared I wouldn't be able to hear them for much longer. Suddenly the wind died down, and it was so unexpected it threw me. I caught my balance just in time to keep myself from flying over the edge into the sky.

"Are you alright?" I heard Sher-cat say and I looked up.

I wanted to tell him I was fine, but the truth was that I wasn't fine. Not at all.

"Please Sher-cat." I croaked, unsure of what I was asking, only certain that I wanted to see our flat at Baker Street again and fearful that I never would. "Please. Get me out of-"

"DO YOU KNOW how _PATHETIC_ you sound when you beg?" Moriarty screamed at me, silencing me as his paw wandered over to the switch. My heart stopped dead for a few beats.

He shook his head and the sudden burst of annoyance was wiped away, seemingly as though it had never happened.

"He's cute. I can see why you might keep him around. Such blind faith and loyalty; but then again one does get sentimental about pets, after all."

If Moriarty was waiting for a reaction from Sher-cat he didn't get one. His expression remained stone.

"…I'm late for a business appointment. You wouldn't mind if I cut the party short would you?"

Sher-cat blinked, unable to think of an immediate reply.

"No. It's your party." He said finally.

Moriarty motioned towards the switch one last time, and I said a silent goodbye; but he kicked it across the roof where it lay useless and forlorn.

I was too scared and relieved to move immediately and I tried to wrap my mind around being safe for the first time that day.

Moriarty walked right by Sher-cat, brushing up lightly against his coat and Sher-cat unconsciously bristled aggressively.

"Catch you…later." Sher-cat said staring forward determinedly.

The three cats, Moriarty, tusk-cat and leopard cat stood at the top of the fire escape, as if they were three actors about to take a bow before disappearing off stage.

"No… You won't." Moriarty said. Then he turned to climb down the fire escape after his two minions and the last we saw of him was his tail, swishing slowly like the tale of a fish.

As soon as he was gone I leapt back to the roof and kissed the ground. It was so good to be back on solid ground, so good not to have the wind threatening you by rubbing its cold fingers through you're fur, or being too scared to look down because you know you'd be looking sixteen stories to your doom.

The next thing I knew, Sher-cat was standing over me looking slightly concerned.

"Help me get this collar off!" I demanded and together we unbuckled and pulled the hellish thing over my head and off of my throat. Already I felt better, being able to hold my head up. I collapsed to the ground, gravel and sharp stones pressing into my stomach and ribs. I didn't care.

"That was…um…uh…" For once, Sher-cat was speechless as he paced slightly back and forth.

"Hell." I finished for him "That was hell."

"Uh…right…" He was panting, as though he'd run a long distance. I'd never seen him so worked up before.

"Let's get you home. You know, before he changes his mind." Sher-cat suggested.

"Yeah. Because he's so changeable."

We limped home under the cover of darkness, never meeting a single cat. It was as though when Moriarty had disappeared he'd taken every cat with him somehow. I wondered how large his 'organization' really was.

When we turned onto Baker Street One more surprise was waiting for us at the corner. It was Adlercat, still as alive and unharmed as the day I'd first met her. I was only somewhat surprised to find she was not dead, as she had passionately sworn she would be by this time.

"I see you found the Doctor. Did you find the cure?"

"Indeed." Sher-cat said.

"And?" she pressed.

"There's not much to say."

"Ah. I see how it is then." She nodded.

"I suppose this is the last we'll be seeing of you?"

Adlercat nodded. "Perhaps. The future is uncertain. I relish that."

I stood sullenly by while the two chatted. I was tired and beginning to sink away from the world, plus their conversation didn't seem to matter until I found out a bit more about their relationship later.

"Goodbye Watsoncat." Adlercat licked me on the cheek and I let her, feeling to tired and numb to fight it.

"Goodbye Sherlockcat." She licked my friend who blinked a few times rapidly, like he didn't know how to compute the action.

That was the last time we saw her to this day. But like she said: The future is uncertain, and I have a feeling that someday, once again the spy-cat will darken our doorstep.

For a few days after the event I didn't feel like doing much, so I implored Sher-cat to write his side of the story based on his deductions and his mental techniques. That gave me a lot of resting time.

Many thanks to the concerned readers who voiced worry about me, I'm doing fine. It was just a bit traumatic, you know?

I slept the whole next day and made sure the drug was completely out of my system; I ate a lot and was pretty lazy until John got home. I bothered him until he sat down with a book, then I curled up in his lap and he petted me until I fell asleep. It was warm and safe and nice, the best kind of therapy.

The day after Sherlock (the human) brought home a laser pointer and Sher-cat and I played for the longest time, just chasing a red dot around like how we had chased clues the week before.

After three days I was ready to write out what happened, hoping that confronting it and not repressing it would make me feel better, but Sher-cat hogged the computer, insisting that I needed to give his art time. In the end he got bored and I was able to write this anyway.

To Lily, my good friend, I'm sorry I didn't realize sooner that it wasn't really you. I hope you can understand that I didn't mean you any harm and I hope we can still be friends.

And to Moriarty: I know that you're still out there somewhere. Reading this. You're too pompous not to relish in your own work. I'm speaking on behalf of Sher-cat as well as the rest of the Yard. We're not giving up until we put an end to you and your organization. London will be the better for it, I know.


	14. A Not So Happy Bath Day

**Watsoncat and company belong to thecaptainsideways, Sherlock and John both belong to the joint custody of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Gatniss, and Moffat and the various situations and plots belong to me...DON'T STEAL!**

**You can visit Watsoncat on tumbler and ask him a question, or on Deviantart.**

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The day after Sherlock (the human) brought home a laser pointer and Sher-cat and I played for the longest time, just chasing a red dot around like how we had chased clues the week before.

After three days I was ready to write out what happened, hoping that confronting it and not repressing it would make me feel better, but Sher-cat hogged the computer, insisting that I needed to give his art time. In the end he got bored and I was able to write this anyway.

To Lily, my good friend, I'm sorry I didn't realize sooner that it wasn't really you. I hope you can understand that I didn't mean you any harm and I hope we can still be friends.

And to Moriarty: I know that you're still out there somewhere. Reading this. You're too pompous not to relish in your own work. I'm speaking on behalf of Sher-cat as well as the rest of the Yard. We're not giving up until we put an end to you and your organization. London will be the better for it, I know.

Guys! I read a newspaper article that said the world was ending! Did you know? What should we do?

Okay. Ignore that. Sher-cat clarified. But what I don't understand is if they could just pay the Russians to save the planet, why don't we? It seems like an awful dumb reason to die. I know that humanity must have the resources somewhere! Why is it taking so long for someone to do something? Sher-cat, why are you laughing?

Okay, I'm gullible. And mad. Sher-cat lied to me about the world ending and I fell for it. But he did it so gosh-darned convincingly! I wish I could resist, or somehow see the truth! Does anyone know how to train in the art of not-getting-tricked?

I'm too busy to think anyway, Life's been fast-paced here on Baker Street. We're getting new mysteries and new clients every day! The detective business is booming!

We've been able to solve cases about stolen cat toys for really rich kitties (it was the local magpie carrying toys back to its nest) and territorial spats for a few feuding strays, and once we even helped a Canadian cat who was lost in London find his owner before he had to board the flight home.

Boy! That one was fun! I couldn't understand half of the things that cat was saying, and in the end it all boiled down to a race through the airport at the last minute to catch the cat-carrier which was supposed to take him home. As it turns out, a stray cat that looked just like the Canadian cat (who has asked not to be named on the internet) had realized that the human couldn't tell the difference between the two cats, had purposefully mislead the poor foreigner and had seamlessly taken his place in order to flee London and escape from a cat-gang that had it out for him.

Lestrade only comes every once and a while for help with murders, since he can pretty much manage most cat-deaths on his own. He only comes to us when he's really stuck.

Really really stuck.

Like, four possible murder suspects with no alibi and each with motive stuck.

One morning he came and said that he'd been up all night grilling four possible murderers, but had no luck in finding the true murderer, so he wanted our help.

And of course, Sher-cat being his usual friendly self said: "Boring."

"Come on; four cats, all in the same room together, all with motive for killing the cat, all as silent as death, and one of them has to be the killer! I'm stuck!"

Sher-cat looked down on him with a cocked eye. It is a weird thing he's been doing lately, tilting his head and arching his brow so that he looks extra-condescending.

"How was he killed?" Sher-cat asked.

Lestrade seemed relieved. "Ripped up. Looks like a few good bites around the neck."

"A few?"

"Well, yeah. It's hard to tell which bite really did the job. His neck is all open, you see."

"Then it's obvious." Sher-cat said shrugging.

Lestrade shook his head. "Spell it out for me Sherlock; I've had a long night."

"If one cat didn't do it, then they all must've done it." Sher-cat pressed.

Lestrade looked awed, like all of the pieces of the puzzle came together perfectly in his mind. He raced out of the flat (as quickly as I could open the doors for him) and didn't come back until later that night, looking shaggy and disheveled.

"How did you know that was going to happen?" He demanded just as soon as Sher-cat was within earshot.

"Easy. It's basic cat-nature." Sher-cat said smiling.

"What happened?" I asked feeling, once again, that I had been left out of some great joke.

"We went to arrest all the cats on your logic and three of them fingered a friend immediately. That cat made a break for it."

"And you let him run?" Sher-cat asked.

"I was trying to arrest four cats with two officers; I was a bit busy, thanks."

"But you caught him, right?" I asked worriedly. Admittedly I'm not fond of sharing the streets with a killer. And especially not one that Sher-cat helped find. I mean, Good Gravy! What if he finds out where we live?

"No, that's why I'm back." He said.

"He's by the river. North side." Sher-cat said in a rather bored tone.

Lestrade's jaw dropped, and for a moment I thought he would tell Sher-cat what I've secretly thought all this time: "You're guessing!"

But he silently slunk outside the flat, probably deep, deep, deep in thought trying to figure out how Sher-cat figured it out.

That's something I wish I could figure out.

But it's nice to be busy. After the You-know-who episode(not Voldemort) I was worried that we'd only be dealing with nut-jobs and weirdos from then on. It's good to know there's still normal crime going on.

Well, not good…but…You know?

It's been very quiet here on Baker Street since I wrote my last entry. Nothing has really come up since the Sham of Four. Everything just kind of ebbed away. The humans seem to be very busy, so they're almost always out, leaving Sher-cat and me alone. Its okay for me because I enjoy a little bit of down time, but Sher-cat is happiest when he's working; otherwise he's a big pain!

He won't stop complaining about being bored, he's demolishing the flat! He's all over the couch scratching the cushions into nothingness! He tears through the piles of junk that lie around in the kitchen! I can't take him anymore!

I realized how bad it had become when I was praying for Lestrade to have something urgent for us like a serial killer or a rabid cat on the loose. What a horrible thing to think!

But I should at least be happy that for the moment You-know-who is out of our hair. Right after the whole 'Holiday in hell' fiasco every trace of him shriveled up. No one has seen or heard of him at all; he's completely disappeared!

Which is fine by me, I never want to see that cat ever again if I can help it, but Sher-cat is a bit dismayed he's lost his nemesis already. I think he actually misses that creep! Or maybe (and more likely) he misses work.

Nothing is going on here for us, everything is peaceful, which worries me most of all.

I know that when everything seems perfect all hell is building up behind the scenes, preparing to break loose!

I never could get the hang of Thursdays.

Sherlock the human gave me a bath.

I HATE baths.

I HATE Thursdays.

It wasn't even my fault! I was just walking around, minding my own business! Actually I was returning to the cushion where I sleep after minding my own business! Sherlock the mad scientist was mixing chemicals haphazardly in the living room (John told him not to) when his phone rang.

To my utter horror his arm jerked and the beaker that he was holding flew out and seemed to come at me in slow motion.

It was like a scary movie, where you see it happening but you can't stop it! I couldn't move! I could just watch petrified as the chemicals showered down upon me.

I had no idea what the chemicals were, whether they were toxic, or whether they were hot; all I knew was that they were wet and on me.

As soon as my fur got drenched I cried out in fear.

To those cats who are reading this, you sympathize with me, right? To the humans who are reading this, you will never know the bane of getting cat-fur wet. It is pretty horrible. It's heavy and matted and weird and uuuurrrrrghhhh!

And to those weird cats who like to swim: WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOOOOOOOU?

Anyway, I ran away from the source of the liquid and upstairs into John's bedroom where I ducked under the bed to lick myself dry, and hopefully avoid the musty smell that comes from cat fur being wet too long.

I noticed that the chemicals smelled really weird and I was debating the safety of actually licking them when I heard Sherlock the human tip-toeing into John's room.

"Here kitty, kitty, kitty."

I've never heard of a cat actually responding to the call of "Here kitty, kitty, kitty". Does it ever work?

"Come here you stupid cat. Where are you hiding?" he hissed.

I might have come out, but I was feeling a bit indignant. And wet. So I waited for him to find me before I gave up the ghost.

I've said it once before, under the bed is the first place Sherlock checks for cats. I was suddenly staring into a pair of bright blue eyes which flashed like lightning when he looked at me.

"Here you are, dummy." He grabbed my scruff and hauled me out from under the bed, dragging me across the floor on my face.

Have I mentioned that Sherlock is not my favorite human? He's nice and pets me every now and again, but he's really insensitive. And mean.

He held me up to the light in John's room and sucked in air through his teeth.

"Oh, no." He said worriedly.

"What?" I asked starting to get scared.

"We're in trouble." He said staring at my back.

"What, what, what, what, what?" I cried.

He took me to the bathroom and tossed me inside, ran out of the bathroom and closed the door on me. Which isn't a problem, I can open doors, but I was curious about what he was looking at. I jumped up to the sink and looked at myself in the mirror.

"Holy Mackerel!" I screamed loud enough for Sher-cat to hear me from the other room, but I couldn't help it! It was horrible!

My fur was blue wherever the chemical had splashed over it. I had a blue blob on my forehead and splotches of blue down my back. Not pretty blue fur like Sher-cat's, which was black with an indigo sheen; that would have been alright. No, Bright blue. Like when the laptop died and the screen turned blue, blue. It was extremely bright and everywhere and it clashed horribly with my ginger fur.

I felt like crying.

I rather like my fur, it's a nice rich color and it's soft and nice and I keep it very clean. Now it was wet, smelled funny, turned blue and was kind of drying up to be hard and crusty.

I could have attacked Sherlock when he walked back into the bathroom, armed with thick yellow gloves which reached up to his elbows and a glass beaker from his experiments.

"You!" I shouted through my frustrated tears. "You did this! You fix it! Fix it right now Sherlock!"

He ignored my mewling and filled the bathtub with water. At that point I had a fair idea of where this encounter was taking me.

I tried to escape out the door, but he had locked it and I still don't know how to open locked doors. (P.S. If anyone out there want's to tell me please feel free to leave a comment. It could save me next time.)

Apparently cat's ears are more sensitive that human ears, because the bathtub filling with water sounded like a water fall of churning, bubbling, frothing water and the roar was practically deafening for me pressed against the door, screaming for Sher-cat's help.

"What?" was the aggravated reply.

"Help! Oh my gosh! He's going to bathe me! Help!" I screamed as Sherlock's long white fingers locked around my chest, gripping me in a strangle-hold from which there was no escape.

With much less ceremony than I would have thought, Sherlock chucked me into the water with about as much delicacy as he would give tossing a pillow.

I had barely touched the water, which was actually very warm like a bowl of soup, when I kicked off against the tub and catapulted over the rim of the porcelain prison and returned to where I was pressed against the door.

"Sher-cat! You've got to help me!" I said giving Sherlock a sliding glance as he leaned forward carefully, trying to pick me back up, but I would have none of it.

Sherlock turned off the water, and without the roaring noise in my ears I could think clearly again.

My paws were wet, but that was pretty much it besides the chemicals in my fur. The smell which had only been a little thing before was starting to make me dizzy.

"Watson, listen to me." I heard Sher-cat's voice as though he were right beside my ear. Actually he was right on the other side of the door. "You have to let him bathe you. That stuff in your fur is Sodium(I can't remember the full name it was long and too hard to spell)Chlorate. It's poisonous."

"But the water…" I whimpered realizing help would now be coming for me. John was still at work for another four hours.

"Won't hurt you." Sher-cat assured me. It was easy for him to say, he was nowhere near the water, I was in it.

Sherlock grabbed me and put me into the bathtub again. I grabbed onto his arms with my claws as the hot water rushed over my flanks, up my tummy, and to my chest.

He painstakingly removed his arm, claw by claw from my grasp and then suddenly I was adrift in the sea.

Oh, sure I could feel the bottom and I could swim if it came to that, but there's something about being in a body of water that's disorienting. It's not just a bathtub anymore, it's the ocean somehow.

I tried to leap out again and again, but Sherlock blocked me with his body.

He poured a bit of some stuff in a bottle onto his hands and rubbed them together, and I thought that was odd, until he started rubbing me with his hands, then it started to make sense.

He scrubbed my back with his narrow, sharp fingers and lathered my head in bubbles, which I tossed away with a few mighty bucks. I scratched him a few times.

I HAD to, it was instinct. I was scared, and he was touching me, and there was water, I HAD to lash out. I wanted to apologize afterward, but honestly, doesn't he deserve it?

Every time I scratched him (and trust me, I had to seriously hold myself back from not shredding his arms) He would grit his teeth, call me stupid and try to dunk my head under the water. He deserved it!

And the weirdest thing about the bath was that I could kind of smell John the whole time. It wasn't quite John's smell, but it was a smell like John.

And before you ask, no, it wasn't just his scent in the bathtub. Humans don't leave very strong scents.

THE WORST THING ABOUT THE BATH was when I thought Sherlock was done and he had to rinse me off. Do you know what rinsing is? It's when he pours a cup of water over your head until the bubbles are gone!

On second thought, I don't want to talk about it. I did and said things I wasn't proud of.

When I thought he was done he drained the bathtub and pulled me out of the water, sopping wet and wrapped me in a towel and held me against his chest stroking me through the towel until I was dry and I cried intelligibly into his shoulder. It was pretty traumatic.

Then he put me down and USED A HAIRDRYER TO FINISH THE JOB!

I thought I had finally had a heart attack and died, I was so scared! He put me onto the floor and all of a sudden I heard this almighty roar that was even louder than the bathtub filling! It sounded like a lion right next to my head!

I shivered from the icy draft chilling me from under the bathroom door, and then a gust of steamy air whipped up my fur in a torrent of noise and heat and wind.

The hot wind was everywhere! In between my legs, on my back, in my face, up my tail! I've never been so violated in my life! And I've been to the vet twice!

Sherlock finished and the silence and stillness was deafening. He opened the door and I ran off.

I have a little hiding place. Sher-cat doesn't know where it is, and the humans don't know where it is, and I'm not going to say where it is here just in case Sher-cat reads this (As we all know he sometimes does).

I hid there for the rest of the day, tucked away into myself trying to reestablish my trust in humanity and trying not to become catatonic. It would have been easy to stay traumatized, but Sher-cat needs me and I need to be stable when he needs me. Crazy cats are not reliable cats.

The whole time I smelled a little bit of John on me. I couldn't figure out where it was coming from. It wasn't John's whole smell, it was just a little piece of it, but I couldn't name that piece. It was somewhat comforting.

When John came home I leapt up on him and asked for a hug. He responded: "Hold on, hold on I'll feed you."

I said "Forget the food John, I need a hug and I need it now! You won't believe what Sherlock did to me today! Why do you ever leave?"

After he put some food down he eventually got my message and I snuggled up on him, content to finally be with the only human I really trust.

Sherlock had continued his chemical experiments after cleaning up the traces of his crime and now he was mixing two beakers of yellow fluid over an open flame.

John sniffed the air a few times, turned to Sherlock, sniffed, turned back to me, sniffed, then held me up to his face and breathed deeply.

"Sherlock," He said with a curious expression "Why does the cat smell like my shampoo?"

Sherlock's face: priceless.


End file.
